A Hero's End
by Finn Solomon
Summary: It is 25 years after the Blight, and Aedan has retired from war to settle down with Leliana and raise his family. But all Wardens must pay a price, and the time of his Calling is near. Take a look at Aedan's life, his last days, and what the future holds.
1. The Beginning of the End

**A Hero's End**

**Foreword**

Hello to you, reader. Before we begin, a little background. I'm a 22 year old guy who has been reading and writing his entire life. I've read tons of fanfiction, and reviewed some really good ones. But I've never really found the time or the inclination to actually sit down and create something of my own. Part of the reason was my insistence to actually finish something before putting it up for publication, instead of doing it chapter by chapter. That way I could make sure my story was perfect (by my standards) before letting it out into the world.

I've been a huge fan of Bioware ever since Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, and bought pretty much every game they've made. I greatly admire their writing and their ability to create wonderful, relatable characters that you really cared about. I've tried for so long to write something that would do their characters justice. And now I hope I have.

It took me a few months to write this thing, mostly during the dead of the night while waiting for the World Cup matches to come on. I'm influenced by all sorts of sources, and I like to sneak the occasional reference in here and there. So if you're a fan of a Song of Ice and Fire or DC Comics or Farscape or Firefly or The Sandman, well you'll get a little something out of reading this.

Once again, thank you for clicking on this link and reading the words I have written. Writing is truly the best thing in the world, because you have created a world that is yours alone. It is the most rewarding and enriching experience I know. If you are kind enough to leave reviews, then I am most grateful. I shall respond to every single review I get. In fact, just drop me a message anytime. I'd like to get in touch with other Dragon Age fans who are just about as passionate as this universe as I am.

A last word, go read Sisimka's stories if you want more Aedan and Leliana romance done right. Sisimka's a really good writer, and inspired me to do better.

Well, that's about it. Welcome back to Ferelden. We've missed you.

- Finn Solomon

_It has been twenty five years since Aedan Cousland and his band of heroes have saved Ferelden and all Thedas from the dangers of the Blight. Peace reigns in the country ruled by King Alistair and Queen Anora, soldiers have traded in their swords for ploughs and there is friendship between men and dwarves and elves and mages. _

_After travelling the world with his wife and soulmate Leliana of Orlais, Aedan has renounced his position as Warden Commander and returned to Highever to rule as Teyrn after the death of his brother Fergus. Aedan and Leliana have three children, and are content to leave their colourful past behind in favour of raising their family. He has all he ever wanted, and is content. _

_But old wounds and past decisions never lie easy, and Aedan has recently heard the Call that all Wardens hear at the end of their lives. He has to pay the final price of a decision that was made in Ostagar all those years ago, and leave his family forever._

**Chapter One - The Beginning of the End**

**Dragon Age 9:55**

**25th year of the reign of Alistair the Warden King**

**Castle Cousland, Highever**

Ever had one of those days where everything seemed to be perfect?

For Aedan Cousland, those days came more frequently in recent years. He was no stranger to pain and horror, despair and strife however. He'd seen his mother and father, little nephew and gentle sister-in-law brutally murdered when he was barely more than a man, so cocksure and full of himself. He'd been so certain in the strength of his arm, comfortable behind the walls of the castle he called home and secure in the protection that his lord father offered.

Far too late he learned the lesson that all Ferelden nobles must master if they are ever to survive the game of thrones. Power is at once more addictive than any drug and available in finite supply. True friends were rarer than a mountain of gold, as Teyrn Bryce Cousland was to discover. Behind his easy smile and ingratiating manner, an insatiable thirst lay buried in the heart of Arl Rendon Howe. Dreams of power was what moved him to cut down one of his oldest friends as though he was little more than an animal awaiting slaughter.

Bryce had lost the game that day. But in doing so, he at least ensured that his sons would never make the same mistake.

Aedan pondered briefly upon the nature of the power he held. If the commonfolk suspected a fraction of the cares and worries that vexed his every waking moment, they would be less hasty to wish for high birth. A farmer might worry about having to feed his family, Aedan worried for every farmer's family within his lands. A soldier might grumble about pulling double nightguard duty, but it was Aedan's responsibility to ensure that the roads were patrolled and the villages safeguarded. The village chief might have to deal with a stream of requests and complaints on a daily basis, but that was nothing to balancing the demands, threats and requests of well over fifty Banns and Arls who had pledged their service to Highever. Although it felt more like Aedan had pledged himself to them, always putting out another fire or settling another petty dispute.

Nevertheless, despite all the troubles that plagued his everyday life, there were certain compensations. His wonderful wife and children. The satisfaction of dispensing justice and earning the respect of his people. Restoring his family's ancestral home to its former glory. And from a glance at the pre-dawn sky, it was going to be undeniably as perfect a day as one could hope for.

Aedan loved waking up just before the dawn, well before most of his household's occupants would rise. There was a real bite to the wind in the colder months, one that every farmhand cursed but was welcomed by him. He loved the way it had of invigorating his muscles, and thoroughly woke the body and mind up after hours of restless slumber.

He still had the dreams, all Grey Wardens would have them for the rest of their lives. Relentless, shadowy images of a leathery wing or bloodstained jaw ripping at him, never letting up. If the mages at the Circle Tower were right and the Fade was where people went when they dreamed, he travelled to a particularly nightmarish area of the Fade every night. Truth be told, he had begun to prefer waking up early ever since the day of his Joining Ritual. It meant less time spent in the company of monsters.

It also meant more time spent in the company of the people that he loved. Beside him his wife still lay sleeping, curled up beneath the covers so that only a mass of gorgeous red hair could be seen. Her soft snores punctuated the still air of their bedchamber. Aedan leaned over and kissed the top of her head. She stirred a little, but did not wake. He got out of bed carefully, making sure not to disturb her rest. His wife got cranky if she had to wake up earlier than she needed to.

Aedan walked through the corridors of his castle, repaired and restored to its former glory after the treacherous attack by Rendon Howe. The man had done his best to break House Cousland and scour its name from the history books, yet today the laurel wreath flag flew proudly over the battlements just as it had for decades past.

The flagstones were freezing beneath his bare feet, yet it felt good. Solid. Aedan had spared no expense in rebuilding Castle Cousland, a lesson that was learned the hard way from the defense of Vigil's Keep. He had sent to Orzammar for the best stonecrafters the dwarves had to offer, importing materials from Orlais and Antiva. The result was a fortification the dwarves swore would stand for a thousand years and more. Aedan believed them.

"Good morning, your grace," greeted a young chambermaid cheerily, her arms laden with clothes. The castle help had become accustomed to seeing the Teyrn walk the passageways at all hours of the morning. It had taken them longer to drop their deferential manner. Servants were ingrained with the habit of being seen and never heard, not even allowed to say a word besides ones of greeting in the presence of a noble. Aedan disliked the idea and tried his best to get to know the men and women in his employ. As his father had once remarked, a master who knows your name and your family history is a master less likely to be hated and betrayed.

"Good morning...Maggie?"

"Martha, your grace. Martha Oakland. But 'tis no trouble."

Aedan smiled ruefully. Of course, he had a lot of servants to get to know. But he made the effort, and that made all the difference. Visitors often remarked how cheerful the staff at Castle Cousland seemed to be. There wasn't the air of sullen insolence you got at one of the lesser households with lords and ladies who were less than enlightened with regards to the treatment of their servants.

Of course, with the king and queen's recent decrees the commonfolk were granted much more protection than they had in the old days, but you always heard a rumour of a young lordling raping his maids, or an Arlessa putting a cook to death because the food was substandard. Rumours, of course. But such rumours never came from Castle Cousland.

Aedan decided to make a quick detour to the castle's kitchen to grab a bite to eat. He liked old Hax the cook, a stoic, dependable fellow who could create gastronomic masterpieces from simple bread and meat and spices. If the man had one fault, he gave far too many treats and snacks to Baskerville, the Mabari War Hound that had been with Aedan ever since he was a puppy. With all the years and many, many sides of beef later Baskerville had grown so fat he was hardly capable of waddling up to a genlock, much less kill it.

Even at this early hour the kitchen was a frantic hotbed of activity. Undercooks rushed about, yelling orders and thrusting large pots of ingredients into the arms of apprentices, who were chopping, stirring, shredding and boiling countless dishes. Off-duty guards mingled with the cooks, sneaking a snack or flirting with the maids who flitted in and out like a flock of birds. And right in the centre of it all, in the eye of the hurricane stood Hax in his tunic and apron, nodding serenely at the other men, occasionally tasting a sauce and whispering instructions into the ears of his well-drilled team. Absolutely no one noticed Aedan moving silently through the crowd until he could lay a hand on Hax's shoulder.

"Your grace. Good morning to you."

"And you, Hax. Could I get something to eat? Something light will do just fine."

"At once, your grace."

Hax mumbled a command and almost instantly a dish of bread, cheese, cold beef and olives was produced and handed to Aedan.

"Thanks Hax," said Aedan. The Teyrn proceeded to eat standing up, watching the hive of activity buzz around him. Occasionally an apprentice would bump into him, turn around as if to make some complaint, and realise just who was it he had ran into. Aedan didn't mind. He wanted to talk to Hax.

"How's everything? Did you stuff Baskerville again? I swear, that mutt is so fat he doesn't even bother to chase cats anymore. I couldn't find him when I woke up this morning."

"No, your grace. Preparations for the feast are going smoothly."

"Did my son's entourage throw all your plans into chaos?"

"No, your grace. My staff can deal with any number of mages and Circle Tower emissaries suddenly dropping in at our front gate and demanding dinner. Your other children, however were in earlier. They too wanted a snack. I gave them one and sent them packing."

"Ryn and Dare were up before I was? The world must be ending. Did a Blight strike again and no one thought to inform me?"

Hax chuckled. "They did ask if I had seen you. I assume they wish to speak to you."

Aedan finished the last of his food and set the plate on a table. "Well you know where I like to be at this time of the morning. Please ensure that preparations for the welcoming feast go as planned. See you later, Hax."

"Teyrn Cousland," said the old cook, inclining his head.

Aedan left the kitchen and climbed up the battlements to the top of the tallest watchtower, which men had dubbed 'Griffon's Peak.' He returned the salute of the guard on duty and began his morning ritual.

Every day before dawn, Aedan liked to get in a strenuous workout at Griffon's Peak. He exercised, practiced his swordplay and acrobatics in the biting cold wind and was rewarded with a breathtaking view of the sun rising over his lands and castle. Up here he could make as much mess and noise as he pleased without disturbing anybody (except for the guards on duty, but they had learned to take it in their stride).

Aedan removed his rough sleeping shift, standing only in his wool leggings. Cords of thick muscle stood out on his arms and legs, chest and shoulders. An observer would have noted the mass of scars adorning his body, each one a memento of a different battle. A puckered cut from a darkspawn blade. A partially-healed furrow from a glancing arrow shot. Patches of skin marked with burns from drake and dragonfire. With streaks of grey creeping into his black hair and a frequent look of weariness in his grey eyes, the Lord of Highever looked every one of his fifty odd years. Yet he moved with the speed and skill of a man half his age.

Aedan cut the air with a sword, relishing the sound it made as it slashed around in a complicated arc. There was a time when he could not hear it over the guttural roars of his enemies and the cries and shouts of his comrades. Over time he had grown to appreciate the simple art of swordplay. It was a dance, a deadly dance in which form and skill often went out the window. Aedan could recall many times when his cuts were less than impressive, his attacks as desperate as an amateur handed a blade for the first time.

With peace and long years he had refined and almost perfected his skill with a sword, whether it was a legendary weapon of an ancient warrior-king inscribed with mighty runes crackling with primal magic, or a simple steel blade fresh from the forge. He used a shield as well, favoring it over another blade or using a heavy, two-handed weapon. Shields had saved his life countless times, and on the battlefield he turned into a force of nature, an avatar of destruction and death against which no darkspawn could stand and live.

Chattering voices and hurrying footsteps shook him out of his thoughts. Someone was coming up the stairs to the watchtower. A pair of youngsters, by the sound of it.

"I told you, we should check the Griffon's Peak again. Father should have woken up by now." A young woman's voice, clear and strong. It was not sweet or melodious, and it would never be, but it carried an inherent air of authority and nobility.

"We checked everywhere else in the castle already. Maybe he's still sleeping." The voice of a younger man this time, a man barely past the threshold of youth. It was cheerful and merry, its owner fond of jests and song.

"Father never sleeps past dawn, I heard a guard say so."

"You don't suppose he's talking to Rolann, do you? It's been a while since he last came and they might be catching up."

"I doubt that, Rolann rarely wakes up this early. I reckon he's still in bed."

"Well if he is here then you'll give me your best bow, the one made of dragonbone."

"I'm not agreeing to any such -"

The door opened and the lord of Highever came face to face with his two younger children and heirs.

"Father!" said Aeryn, surprised. She was the older of the two, a young woman of about eighteen winters. She was almost as tall as Aedan, with long red hair and delicate features that earned many admiring glances from young noblemen. While every bit as beautiful as her famed mother, Aeryn much preferred wielding a longsword or galloping full-tilt on an armored charger clad in heavy plate and brandishing a lance to sitting quietly in a corner and sewing.

Her favourite tale was of Aveline the First, female chevalier of Orlesian legend and Aedan secretly thought it was only a matter of time before his daughter became the new standard bearer for women warriors throughout Ferelden. Already she could best several knights of Aedan's personal guard in everyday sparring and was well known in the tournament and jousting scene. Off the battlefield Aeryn was something of an introvert and kept mostly to herself. Her best friends were Aedan's knights, much to her mother's despair, and they had adopted her as their unofficial leader. Aeryn was just as skilled as directing men in battle as she was in taking part in one.

"Hi dad!" said Darien excitedly. "Aeryn, you owe me a dragonbone longbow." Darien was the youngest child, a boy of sixteen, shorter than his siblings but broad in the chest and shoulders. He had red hair like his sister, though of a lighter shade, but had also inherited his mother's gift of archery. Never seen without a bow and a quiver of arrows, Darien had an unerring knack of placing an arrow exactly where he wanted it to go.

On hunting trips it was Darien who inevitably brought back the most game, and he had won so many archery tournaments under no less than four different names people no longer wanted to compete against him. In temperament he was the opposite of his cool and collected older sister, always ready to start a fight or take action. He made friends just as easily as he made enemies though, and could sing a song and compose a tune as easily as his sister could swing a sword or ride a horse.

"Aeryn, Darien. Were you looking for me?" asked Aedan, sheathing his sword and wiping the sweat from his brow. Despite the chill he had worked up quite a bit of it and his body steamed in the cool morning air. He sat down on a bench and took a swig of water from a stone bottle, motioning for his children to join him.

"Yes father. We wanted to...you know. Talk. About what's going to happen," said Aeryn, meeting his eyes unflinchingly. If he had to pick one thing about his daughter that he loved the most, it would be her courage. Aeryn had a steady well of courage that never ran dry. When she made a mistake or did something wrong, Aeryn would always admit it to her father's face, something Aedan found difficult to do when he was at that age himself.

"Dear heart, there's plenty of time to talk. I'm not going away just yet. But I assure you, I will answer any questions you might have before I leave. For now, I just want to enjoy my morning workout."

"I understand, father," said Aeryn.

"And you Dare?"

"I just went along to make sure that Ryn stayed out of trouble," said Darien flippantly, shrugging the quiver off his back and setting his bow on the ground in order to sit more comfortably.

"Funny, since you're the one that always starts it," muttered Aeryn.

"Ah sis, you wouldn't be anywhere without me and you know it," said Darien, grinning at his older sister.

"Darien," said Aedan gently. "I know when you have something on your mind."

"Well...yeah," admitted Darien, looking away. Aedan laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, we'll all have time to talk later. As a family. This I promise. But for now...would both of you care to put an old man through his paces?"

Darien glanced at Aeryn, a wry smile on his face. Aeryn took a moment to think before nodding.

"Go easy on me now," said Aedan, picking up a blunted practice sword.

"Sis if you fall for that I'm not responsible for the bruises you're gonna get," remarked Darien, picking up a quarterstaff and positioning himself in an opening stance.

"Oh don't worry about me little brother," replied Aeryn, brandishing a modified warhammer, hollowed out in the centre so as to be safe for practice.

Aedan faced his two children, one on either side. Then he attacked.

The guard appreciated the display of skill the old man was putting on show. Darting from one kid to another, targeting their unguarded limbs, their centre of mass, their necks, but always stopping his blows inches before they actually connected, something which some masters could not accomplish. If this was a real fight his children would have been killed many times over, but they went at it gleefully, laughing and shouting, trying to land even a single hit on their father.

Darien flailed his staff and Aeryn swung her hammer about, but Aedan was always a step or half-step ahead of them. Eventually he began to tire, and Darien tripped him up with a lucky sweep of the legs, followed by Aeryn knocking the sword out of his hands. Flat on his back, chest heaving, Aedan called for surrender.

"I see the weaponmaster has been training you well."

"You're still our best teacher dad," said Darien, helping Aedan to his feet.

"It shows. You might even surpass me eventually," said Aedan, taking another gulp of water.

"Hard to imagine anyone being a better warrior than you, father. Even the Qunari I spoke to were in awe of your skill. Well, as much in awe as a Qunari could show," said Aeryn, dusting herself off.

"Oh I don't know. You are my children, after all. Everything in time," said Aedan. A faint glow on the horizon caught his attention.

"Look kids. Look at that. Isn't it beautiful?"

The green fields, hills, woods and rivers that encompassed Highever's farmland were gradually lit up by the rising sun. Aedan stood with an arm around the shoulder of each of his children, admiring the view.

"What a sight, eh? After all this time it still takes my breath away."

"I recall you saying the same thing about me once, my lord."

Aedan turned around, smiling widely. Only one woman in the world had that sweet gentle voice that could soothe even a raging bereskarn and make the master composers in Orlais beg and weep to hear just another note.

Leliana of Orlais stood behind the three of them, wearing a robe of deep blue wool. Her red hair tumbled loose about her shoulders, tossed about a little by the wind. Her face was a little more lined, her figure a little well rounded from the first time he had met her in Lothering, but she was still his Leliana, his bard and bride. The woman who kept her faith when everyone else was losing theirs and in doing so, enabling him to believe in himself and fulfill his destiny as the man who saved all of Ferelden.

"Aeryn, Darien. Please go and make yourselves presentable. The guests will soon be arriving for the welcoming feast for Rolann and his men, and I don't want you looking like a couple of peasant children after a day in the fields."

"Yes mother," chorused the children, and disappeared down the tower steps. Aedan wrapped his arms around his wife and laid his chin on the top of her head, breathing in the fresh, clean scent of her hair. He caressed her neck, marvelling at the feel of her skin under his calloused hands, making her tremble just a little.

Leliana embraced him back just as passionately, pressing herself against his chest and hugging him tightly. Even after all these years, her body was still as firm as when she was a maid, making his heart beat a little faster. Aedan released his grip and bent down for a kiss, which Leliana obligingly gave. Aedan loved the feel and taste of his lips on hers. They'd spent entire nights doing nothing but kissing, until their lips were sore and they had to stop.

"My lady."

"I woke up and you were gone."

"You know I don't sleep much."

"I don't like it."

"After all this time?"

"Every single time."

The sun had almost completely risen over the horizon. Aedan could see men and women working in the fields and walking Highever's streets, going about their daily business.

"I love you, you know. So much," said Aedan quietly, twining his fingers with hers.

"I love you too. Do you remember what we said to each other at the gates of Denerim, before we fought the archdemon?"

**Dragon Age 9:30**

**Denerim**

Aedan looked upon the army he'd gathered, the men and dwarves, elves and mages who'd answered the call to defend the land and its people. They stood before the walls of Ferelden's capital, broken and torn by the machinations of the enemy. Smoke rose from the ruined city, clouding the air and turning the sky a dull grey. Denerim was teeming with genlocks, hurlocks and ogres of every stripe and colour. It was the biggest horde in recorded history, having indulged in bloodlust and slaughter far beyond the inclinations of the most depraved human. And yet the army did not care. All eyes were on Aedan, the man they trusted to lead them not only into battle, but to victory.

"Today, no matter who you are, you fight alongside a Ferelden. Man or dwarf or elf, you chose to follow my command and save this land. I swear to you that my order and my king will never forget the service you will perform today. Whoever falls in battle falls as an honoured saviour of Ferelden. Whoever survives will build a new life as a subject of Ferelden, one in which your voices are heard and your sacrifices are not forgotten. We fight not for this city, this heap of rock. We fight for ourselves, for the chance to live without darkspawn threatening our families. Every 'spawn you slay brings us that bit closer to the Ferelden which you have been waiting for all your lives. So this I say! Go forth and leave none alive to breathe the clean air of our land! Let's kick some arse!"

The roar of approval that followed was deafening.

Aedan shook hands with a host of officers, received their good wishes and gave some of his own. Then he felt a hand close around his and pull him away into an empty tent.

Despite the heavy plate armour he wore, despite the noise and the bustle of the army camp around them, Aedan held the woman he loved close and found a perfect moment amidst the chaos. She was clad in drakeskin battledress, had a huge recurved Orlesian bow slung over her shoulder, and Aedan could not recall ever having seen something as remotely beautiful and dangerous in his entire life.

"Leli love."

"Aedan, there's something I need to tell you. Before we do this together."

"Yes?"

"Aedan, I'm in love with you heart and soul. I want to be by your side and help you shoulder whatever burdens you may have for the rest of your life. You've done for me than anyone else has ever done before. You are my dearest friend and my love, you lit my path through darkness and I will stand with you to whatever end. This day we will forge a legend of our own that will be remembered and sung throughout the ages."

"Leliana, I couldn't have made it this far without you. There were so many times when I wanted to give up, so many battles where I thought I wouldn't survive. But every time I saw you fighting, I found the strength to push on. For you. And I don't really know if there is a Maker, not after all I've been through...but if he does, I am forever in his debt for bringing us together. I love you."

**Shift**

Aedan recalled what she said as though it was yesterday.

"Yes, I do."

"And do you know what's changed since then?"

"No."

"Nothing at all."

They watched the sun rise together, side by side.

"Leliana, I need to tell the children. I need to tell them the whole truth. It's something that I must do."

Leliana looked away. "I suppose you must. Although unearthing long-buried secrets that in my view are best left forgotten will not be easy for either of us."

"They are my children and yours. They deserve the truth. How they choose to handle it will determine the course of their futures."

Aedan drew his wife close to him and enjoyed this small bit of peace and calm before the coming storm.


	2. Truth and Justice

**Chapter Two - Truth And Justice**

**Dragon Age 9:55**

**Throne Room, Castle Cousland**

The throne room of Castle Cousland was unique in that it did not actually have a throne. In Aedan's opinion, thrones were for kings and he was no king. The room was actually a huge meeting hall which doubled as the banquet hall, but everyone in the keep referred to it as the 'throne room.'

It was a nice, airy place with tall windows set with beautiful stained glass to let light in but keep out the wind and rain. Some of the windows depicted scenes from the Chantry, as per the instructions of the Teyrna. Others, conforming to Aedan's more whimsical sensibilities, showed scenes of his personal victories or a group scene of his family. Elaborate tapestries depicting the history and heritage of House Cousland decorated the stone pillars and walls Leliana had even made some of them herself. At one end of the room was a huge desk made of aged hardwood where Aedan sat and worked on official matters when he needed to be publicly seen.

Court was in session, as it was every day. One of the first things Aedan had done upon assuming his role as Teyrn was to hold court every single day, instead of once a week as his brother Fergus had preferred. It generally prevented a backlog of work from piling up, although it still seemed never-ending.

The protocol was straightforward, Fereldens being a simple people by nature. They had little use for long words and delays, common sense often being consulted instead of the letter of the law. Criminal cases and military matters were brought before the Teyrn first. After that came civil cases that could not be resolved by the local Bann or Arl. Last came the requests and office-seekers. The people of Highever knew that if the Teyrn was at home, he would hold court every day from dawn to noon without fail.

Usually the children would be taking their lessons from Master Alanna, the castle scholar and teacher around this time. However in recent years Aedan would pull them out of their studies to sit alongside him and watch as he dealt with the matters of justice. Rolann in particular had been an excellent student whenever he had been at home, and he actually found the various cases interesting. The other two children were less enamored, although they did make the effort to sit through some of the hearings.

Presently only Aeryn was with Aedan, occupying a small chair beside her father's desk. Seneschal Vordun read out each case as it was heard, and Hrun the Captain of the Guard was on hand to keep an eye on the criminals and malcontents. The line stretched the length of the hall and there was a constant, low murmuring as the various people waited patiently for an audience with the Teyrn.

"Teyrn Cousland will now hear the case of Samuel Rokin, accused of poaching."

A young man was brought before Aedan's desk, his hands shackled with iron. His brown hair looked as though it had not been washed or combed in weeks, and he wore a scruffy beard on his chin. He was dressed in a rough-spun shirt and simple wool leggings and kept his eyes downward, not daring to look directly at Aedan.

"The charges?" asked Aedan, putting down his quill pen and setting aside a letter he was writing.

"Rokin stands accused of hunting illegally in gameswoods belonging to House Cousland."

"Who was responsible for sending this case on to me?"

"Bann Titus of Riverway, your grace. He could not decide on a verdict and asked for the benefit of your wisdom in resolving this matter."

"Not the first time I've had to clean up Bann Titus's messes," whispered Aedan to Aeryn, who covered her smile with a hand. "Witnesses and evidence?"

Hrun piped up, his voice a low rumble. "A squad of my lads ran into him just as he was coming out of the woods, yer grace. He had a deer on his shoulders and tried to make a break for it, but we brought him back."

"I see," said Aedan, looking up and down the poacher. "Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

"Yeah, I damn well do!" yelled Rokin suddenly. His voice pierced the air and a sudden hush fell upon the hall. The guards flanking Rokin took a step back, unnerved by the outburst.

"I was just a simple farmhand, but I was wounded in a bandit raid. Where were your soldiers then? After that I couldn't find work because of my injured hand, and my family were starving. What choice did I have but to live off the land? You nobles keep the best gameswoods for yourself while common people like me starve!" said Rokin loudly. He was no longer cowering, he stood a little straighter as he faced down the Teyrn. Aeryn shifted slightly in her seat, uncomfortable with the turn of events.

Aedan waited until the man had finished before speaking. "You say you were injured in a bandit raid. Which farm was this?"

"Fisher's Creek, your grace," said Seneschal Vordun.

"And this was?"

"About three years ago."

"And you couldn't find a job afterwards?"

"Damn straight! Nobody would hire me to do anything!" asserted the poacher.

"Did you come to me?" asked Aedan calmly.

"What?" asked Rokin.

"My question is simple. After the bandit raid and when you couldn't find another job, did you come to me or your Bann for help?"

"I - well I - whoever heard of asking the Teyrn of all Highever for help in something like this? Our problems can't be understood by you or your Banns."

"But you never took the trouble to find out," returned Aedan. He gestured to the back of the room. "You might have noticed that a fair few of the people here today are commonfolk. All of them have something to ask of me. While I cannot help everyone, I will hear them out, at least. But that is only if they seek my help. Otherwise you can't blame me for not listening to your problems if they are not called to my attention."

Rokin had nothing to say to that. He simply stared at Aedan, dumbfounded.

"What is the nature of your injury, Rokin?"

"It's my hand, your grace. I can't hold a pitchfork or scythe like I used to," said Rokin. He had quietened down a little.

"So how did you manage to poach the deer?"

"I used a crossbow. It's slower, but I can handle it fairly well."

"So you're a good shot with that bow?"

"I'd say so, your grace," cut in Hrun once more. "It was a moonless night when we caught him, could barely see a thing in front of us. It's a wonder how he managed to poach anything at all."

"Thank you Hrun. Now a simple solution presents itself. Rokin, poaching from the gameswoods is prohibited for a reason. If we let everyone take what they wanted the woods would be emptied in weeks. I never bother with hunting myself, far too messy. But bearing in mind the circumstances, I am willing to be merciful. Rokin you are hereby conscripted into Hrun's company of guards as a scout and crossbowman. Your wages will be docked until you have repaid the value of the deer you shot, but your wife and children will be fed and sheltered within the company barracks."

"I...thank you, your grace. I regret what I did. Thank you for not letting my family starve," said Rokin weakly. Tears of relief rolled down his cheeks.

"Very well. Just remember, I am not an unreasonable man, and if I can help you, I will. Remove his shackles, men."

The guards unlocked the restraints and Rokin left the hall.

Aeryn leaned over and whispered into Aedan's ear. "I was wondering what was the best thing to do in that situation. It seems an elegant solution to me."

"The best ones usually are, Ryn," said Aedan, pleased that his daughter had the chance to witness it. "What would be the point of imprisoning the man, or flogging him? His family would die and I can't let that happen. Now Hrun has another skilled man in his employ. Worked best all around, I feel."

"Aye, true enough," said Aeryn.

"Next case please Vordun," asked Aedan. The old man consulted the scroll that he held, his bald head and long white beard at comic odds with the chainmail he wore and the sword by his side. Although Seneschals were traditionally expected to serve in a more military capacity, Vordun was a bureaucrat at heart. He'd never used the sword he had belted at his hip.

"A most foul bit of business, your grace. The case of Nik Johnsen, accused of rape and murder."

The guards shoved a man roughly before Aedan's desk. Unlike Rokin, this man had his feet and hands manacled together. He was dressed in the leathers and mail of a soldier, although he carried no weapon. He fixed a malignant eye upon Aedan, almost as if daring him to say something.

"The charges?" asked Aedan, his voice level. He'd heard about this case and it was an effort not to let his emotions get the better of him.

"This man, a soldier from the ranks, stands accused of the rape and murder of Jenny Greene, a young woman from town two days ago."

"The evidence?"

"Several witnesses reported hearing a loud commotion from the charnel house where the two were last seen, after which Johnsen left with blood on his clothes. He tried to wash it off but local guards were alerted to the scene, and arrested him."

"I see. Is there anything you have to say for yourself?" asked Aedan. Aeryn noticed that his fist had clenched tightly, a telling sign of her father's true state of mind in his otherwise seemingly calm facade.

"She was a whore, and nobody saw me do it."

"Explain the blood."

"The bitch cut me after I wouldn't pay her as much as she wanted."

Hrun was glaring at the accused man, his great bearded face contorted in anger. Johnsen had been one of his own guards and the captain obviously took the crime as a personal failure. Aedan noticed a few bruises on the man's face. The guards were apparently careless about the way he was treated while in custody.

"The woman was found dead with a dozen stab wounds, Johnsen. People saw you coming out of that place with blood on your hands, and my physicians have found no wounds, self-inflicted or otherwise upon you," said Aedan coldly. "You are hereby sentenced to death by beheading."

"You can't do this to me!" screamed Johnsen, trying to lunge forward. The guards held him back with difficulty. "I am of noble blood!"

"Are you now?" asked Aedan, looking at Vordun.

"He is the second cousin of Bann Delda, your Grace," confirmed Vordun.

"Interesting thing," said Aedan, unfurling a length of parchment and reading from it. "I received a letter from Bann Delda yesterday. She states quite clearly she is horrified with what you have done and no longer considers you bloodkin. Not that it would have mattered even if she did, although this certainly makes things simpler all round."

"She was just a whore!" raged Johnsen, struggling futilely against his bonds.

"She was a mother!" roared Aedan suddenly, getting to his feet. He thumped one hand on his desk, making a pile of books slip and crash to the floor. The hall had gone silent again, transfixed by the scene that was unfolding. "She had children and she tried to provide for them the only way she knew how. No matter what she was or what she did, she was a subject of Highever and the Crown. The Crown's protection extends to everyone, Johnsen. Everyone except murderers. Your high birth will not save you. Your money and possessions are to be donated to the children of the women you murdered, to provide for their upbringing. You are sentenced to death and I will carry out the sentence myself before the sun sets tonight. Take him away."

Hrun dragged Johnsen away with one huge hand, ignoring the murderer's attempts to escape as if he were nothing more than a rat caught in the jaws of a hound. Rolann picked up the fallen books and arranged them back carefully on the desk.

"Father, I have to know. Other lords and Arls use hangmen and executioners. Why do you personally carry out death sentences?"

It was a strong question, one that Aedan had not anticipated answering for a while yet. But he was glad to explain the reasoning behind it to his daughter.

"Ryn, listen to me very carefully. One of our greatest responsibilities and burdens as nobles of the realm is the power of life and death over the people in our service. We must never forget this, even for a second. If you ever have cause to send a man to his death, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his last words. If you cannot do that, then maybe he does not deserve to die."

"I see," said Aeryn, resting a hand on the hilt of her dagger.

"Or maybe there's another way out of this, one you haven't considered?" came a voice from the end of the hall. The Teyrn's men craned their necks, trying to see who was it that had interrupted Aedan's judgment. A burst of low murmuring ran around the hall when Rolann Cousland strode in, accompanied by two of his fellow mages from the Circle Tower.

Although their dark blue and deep purple robes were of good material and design, they paled in comparison to the opulence and grandeur of Rolann's finery. He wore a robe of solid black, woven out of the best Orlesian cloth. A hood covered his hair and shaded his eyes. Unlike those of his companions', elaborate designs were patterned onto his robes in silver thread. A griffon, a bull, even a high dragon seemed to move and catch the eye as Rolann walked down the centre of the hall and came to a stop in front of his father's workdesk.

Rolann was Aedan's oldest son, a man of twenty five. He was tall and lean with long black hair that gave him the look of a bard or an artist. While Rolann did have an artistic side he was primarily a scholar and a thinker, able to match wits with any philosopher from the royal court. But most of the realm only knew him through rumours of his magical prowess.

At his young age Rolann was already a prominent member of the Senior Council of the Circle Tower. He had prodigious magical talent and was the de facto head of the Libertarians, a group of mages aiming to break free of Chantry influence in mage affairs. He had surpassed every expectation that Aedan had of him and it was his arrival at Castle Cousland that warranted the huge feast that was being prepared for that evening.

"My son," said Aedan, standing up. Aeryn had risen to her feet quicker and rushed forward, squeezing Rolann in a hug so tight he gasped and laughed.

"Easy, little sis. I know it's been a while since you last saw me but you're breaking a rib! Still working on that swordarm of yours?" said Rolann, hugging her back.

"Rolann I'm so glad you're back," said Aeryn, letting him go.

"Me too, little sis. Me too," said Rolann, mussing up her hair. Aedan once had to deal with an angry knight who had his arm broken by Aeryn for doing the exact same thing. But now she just laughed as if she was a young girl again.

"Father," said Rolann, looking at Aedan and inclining his head. Aedan started forward to embrace him, but Rolann turned away to face Nik Johnsen, who was looking confused at the turn of events.

"If I'm not mistaken, father, I believe there's a way out of this situation that does not involve death."

"I'm sorry Rolann, you're mistaken this time. The man is a murderer and a craven coward. He is to die and I will carry out the sentence myself," said Aedan, stepping around his desk and standing before his son. The people around them looked from one man to another, noting their locked gazes.

"I recommend that this man undergo the Rite of Joining and become a Grey Warden," said Rolann, unblinking. An audible gasp echoed around the hall.

"Rolann, the Rite of Joining is reserved for those only whom the Grey Wardens deem most worthy. This man is hardly the best example of a Ferelden hero."

"Perhaps not. But with King Alistair's decree he has the option of joining the ranks to redeem his honour."

Aedan gritted his teeth. It had slipped his mind, but his son was right. With the numbers of Grey Wardens so reduced at Ostagar, Vigil's Keep and other battles, the crown had issued a decree stipulating that criminals had the right to serve as Grey Wardens under the eye of the Warden Commander at Amaranthine. It was an idea apparently inspired by the dwarven Legion of the Dead. Aedan had protested bitterly when the new Commander first proposed it but due to a combination of crippling manpower shortages and a rise in crime, the king was persuaded to issue the new laws throughout Ferelden.

Granted most of them were sent to battle darkspawn in the depths of Orzammar anyway, but Aedan still felt uneasy at the sudden flood of new recruits who had forgettable and oft times bloody past history to hide counted among the legendary order. Despite the celebrated cases of a few such men eventually making a new name for themselves, Aedan's skepticism remained unbroken. This apparently had not extended to his son.

"The man murdered a defenceless young woman, Rolann. He doesn't deserve a second chance."

"Everyone does, father. Didn't you give Zevran Arainai a second chance? He was a murderer many times over. Or what about Sten of the Beresaad? All heroes, and all criminals too. This man should be given that chance."

"Yes, that's it! I pledge myself to the Grey Wardens!" babbled Johnsen excitedly. The look of relief he gave Rolann was sickening in its desperation.

Aedan fumed, outwitted by his own son. Not for the first time, but certainly the first time in so public a space and in so dire a matter. Although there was really nothing he could do about it. The laws were clear and Johnsen had to be given the chance to join.

"Send him to Amaranthine," muttered Aedan to Hrun.

"Y'grace?" said Hrun, looking warily at his prisoner, and then at Rolann who was enjoying the applause he was receiving from the assembled crowd.

"You heard me. But I still want his money confisicated and donated to the children of the woman he murdered. Send the man to the Warden Commander, Maker help him. And I hope he chokes on the demon blood." But that last bit was said under his own breath.

"Good people," said Aedan suddenly, addressing the crowd. "I fear I can satisfy no more audiences today. The day's session is adjourned." Without a backward glance the Teyrn of Highever left the hall. Aeryn gave Rolann a worried look, and then hurried after her father.

"Was that wise, Rolann?" asked one of the mages. "Antagonizing his grace like that."

"I know my father," replied Rolann. "He'll soon see the wisdom of my words. Besides, if he's mad now, he definitely won't like what I have to tell him later."


	3. A Change at the Helm

**Chapter Three - A Change At The Helm**

**Dragon Age 9:55**

**Throne Room, Castle Cousland**

"What's wrong, dear?" whispered Leliana out of the corner of her mouth. She laid her hand on Aedan's. He had barely touched his food by his normal enormous standards and had spent most of the feast in grim silence.

The air was thick with the aroma of meat, spices and ale. Snatches of intermittent string music played from a band of minstrels in one corner. The hall was filled with a hundred low conversations and the endless clink of cutlery and flagons. Nearly every Bann, Arl, magistrate, knight, Chantry priest and important merchant within Highever's area of influence had been invited to the welcoming feast in honour of Rolann's arrival at Castle Cousland. Aedan normally liked feasts. It gave him a chance to talk to important people in a more congenial setting. But today he had barely made a sound.

Aedan and Leliana were seated at the place of honour at the head of the great hall, incidentally right where his desk used to be just hours ago. At the same table were Seneschal Vordun, Hrun the Captain of the Guard, Master Alanna, several Banns and Arls and the Revered Mother of the Highever Chantry. Darien was seated beside his mother, wearing a green tunic and talking merrily to Bann Erin, who was around his age. Aeryn was seated beside Aedan, looking uncomfortable in a long red gown and sipping silently from a silver goblet. Beside her, the focus of attention of everyone in the room who wasn't already dead drunk, was Rolann Cousland.

You could see it in the way the Banns kept flicking their eyes to him. The Revered Mother's lips had set in a firm line the instant she set eyes on him and had not loosened up since. The older knights' hands hovered near their weapons. But the younger guests, especially the girls, hung on his every word. For his part Rolann took it in stride, chatting politely to anyone who came up to the table to talk to him for a few moments, occasionally sharing a joke with Aeryn.

It was understandable, from a storyteller's point of view. Since he was married to one, Aedan was intimately familiar with the fascination the guests had for his son.

Aedan and Leliana had discovered Rolann's magical abilities at a very young age, when he was seven and had made a cat fly around the room. Knowing that there was no way of keeping it secret, and recalling a disastrous attempt by the Arlessa of Redcliffe to do just that, Aedan made the heavy decision of turning over his first born son to the care of the mages of the Circle Tower.

**Dragon Age 9:37**

**The Circle Tower of the Magi**

"Rolann, you need to stay here for a while."

"Why, daddy? I want to go home. I don't like it here."

Aedan was down on one knee, the easier to look his young son in the eye. He ignored the curious looks he was getting from the templars and mages who recognised the Hero of Ferelden. Leliana was talking quietly in a corner to the First Enchanter Cicero, who was a good friend of Wynne's and had been picked by her to lead the mages before she finally passed away.

"Son...do you know how you made Ser Pounce float around the room?"

Rolann's face creased up in a boyish grin. "I don't know, daddy. But it was funny."

"The mages here will teach you how to control yourself, Rolann. They can teach you how to help people and not hurt them. Do you understand?"

"I think so," said Rolann, looking puzzled.

"This will be your new home for some time, but we will come visit you as often as we can. You have to be brave, son. You are a noble, and a Cousland. Don't you want to make me proud by showing the mages how brave you are?"

"Yes daddy. Promise you'll visit?"

"I promise," said Aedan. "And we'll write to you all the time. You'll be getting so many letters you can fill the whole tower with them."

Rolann sniffed, and tried to smile. The look on his face broke Aedan's heart. Silently, he cursed the Maker and men for not being able to come up with a better solution for mages. Children had to grow up without their parents. Nothing could make that right.

Leliana had left the First Enchanter and came to join them. Rolann threw himself forward and hugged her tightly.

"I'll miss you, mommy," sobbed Rolann. Leliana held him close and stroked his hair, already in need of a trim.

"I'll miss you too my darling boy. Your father and I love you so much. Now if you promise to be brave, I'll tell you a secret."

Rolann stopped sniffling, and wiped away his tears. "What is it, mommy?"

"You're going to have a new baby sister," whispered Leliana. Rolann's look of wide-eyed surprise lifted Aedan's heavy spirits.

"Really?" he breathed.

"Yes. In fact by the next time we visit, you might be able to meet her."

"Does daddy know?"

"Oh, he's in on the secret too. But nobody else."

"It might be a boy, you know," said Aedan.

Leliana made a dismissive noise. "A woman always knows. It's going to be a girl. But remember, don't tell anyone. It's a secret."

"I won't. You'll see, I can be brave."

Leliana kissed him on the cheek and stood up. "That's my boy. I love you. Now we have to leave."

Aedan put his arms around Rolann. "I know you'll be just fine, son. I love you more than anything. We'll see you soon."

When they had finished saying their goodbyes, Rolann squared his shoulders and was ushered into his new quarters by an apprentice mage. The First Enchanter was giving him reassurances about how well he would be looked after, but all Aedan could remember was that his son didn't look back. Even at that age he was beginning to show traces of the steel that would become second nature throughout his life.

**Shift**

"...and that's when I found out that combining a cone of cold with a fireball made the ogre dripping wet from head to toe, which was literally begging for a lightning bolt! I mean, the damn thing roared for a minute and a half before dying," finished Rolann, and the gathered listeners laughed in appreciation. Aedan took another sip of wine.

By all previous standards, a mage undertook his Harrowing ritual after years of intense study, careful preparation and (so Aedan imagined) nights of robe-wetting terror. Some succumbed to the terrible forces that preyed on their mind during the ritual and had to be slaughtered by the Templars like a farm animal that had gotten out of hand.

Others never even found the courage to go through with the ritual, preferring a life without emotions which was to Aedan's mind, not really a life at all. The mages who actually survived this ridiculously dangerous experience spoke in hushed tones of evil demons and horrifying monsters with whom they had to struggle before making it through, if they spoke of it at all.

Rolann Cousland did his at the age of twelve, and was done a mere fifteen minutes later. Which was according to the Templar Knight-Commander, a record that shattered all others going back for hundreds of years.

Overnight he became a legend amongst the Circle mages. It didn't hurt that Rolann possessed a vast intellect, and raced through his studies at an accelerated pace. He had his fair share of detractors, who tried to accuse him of demon possession and fraternization. But in all those years at the tower Rolann never slipped up or gave even a hint that he was being controlled by evil entities. When questioned about what he had experienced during the Harrowing ritual, Rolann tended to be flippant and even made jokes about the whole matter, changing the story each time he was asked. If Aedan suspected he was withholding the entire truth, he did not give voice to those concerns.

After ascending to the Senior Council Rolann quickly pushed through a new Circle policy of outside engagement with the rest of Ferelden. It was now fairly common to see a mage wandering around villages hunting down wild animals and bandits that threatened the commonfolk, as compared to times past where a Ferelden could go his entire life without having seen a mage in person.

Rolann undertook several of these so-called missions personally, cracking down on rogue blood mages and dealing with demon intruders. From being a Circle Tower celebrity to having his name actually sung by minstrels across the length and breadth of Ferelden, Rolann had come a long way.

Recently he had begun to attract some criticism for joining and leading the Libertarians, a group of mages who believed in independence from both Circle Tower and Chantry rules. Although many saw this as a dangerous move, Rolann had taken pains to ensure that his words and actions never provoked the templars enough into making them decide that an in-depth investigation was in order. Backed by the constant tales of his heroic deeds, Rolann was winning over more and more people to his cause and commonfolk and nobles alike were heard to discuss quite openly about the implications of an independent and autonomous Circle Tower.

Lost in his thoughts, Aedan didn't notice Leliana standing up and raising her goblet until the noise and hubbub gradually died down.

"To all my honored guests here tonight, my lord husband and I thank you for the pleasure of your company. We welcome our son, the mage you know as Rolann but to us as our first-born and our pride and joy, back to the embrace of Castle Cousland."

Scattered cheers greeted her remarks. Rolann had stopped talking and all eyes were on Leliana.

"Sadly, we have another reason for hosting this feast, one that gives me far less pleasure to announce. My lord husband will now make an important announcement that concerns the future of this city and its lands."

The silence had given way to a low buzz of excited murmuring. Aedan was shaken out of his reverie and shot Leliana an angry look. Long years of marriage had given them the gift of non-verbal communication.

_Now? In front of everyone?_

_It had to be done sooner or later. Now is the right time._

Scowling at her, Aedan got to his feet. Leliana had an expression of supreme indifference as she sat down again primly, but those closest to her knew it was one she only wore after she had gotten the Teyrn to do whatever she wished.

Aedan coughed, wishing he could take another sip of wine. "My honoured friends, residents of Highever and beyond. Throughout my life I have earned no greater honour and privilege than to return to the home of my fathers and serve as your Teyrn just as they have done before me. Indeed, after all the accolades and honours I have won, this is the one I value and treasure the most."

"After my brother Fergus died without an heir and I succeeded him as Highever's Teyrn, I have ever strived to be the kind of leader that my father Bryce was, and wished for his sons to be."

The murmurs rose a notch at the mention of Bryce's name, some of the older guests still recalled the old man fondly.

"By the grace of the Maker permit me to be as so bold as to say I have fulfilled some small part of that great ambition. I have ever tried to temper justice with mercy, and laws with generosity. Believe me when I say I can envision no better fate in this life or the next than to serve the people of this city unto the end of my days."

"However that is not my fate. Fate decreed that I join the ranks of the Grey Wardens, the noble heroes who have protected this land from the scourge of the darkspawn for thousands of years. Though the task was immense and all seemed lost, my comrades and I battled through the odds and saved many lives. His majesty the king was my companion and brother-in-arms. The Teyrna, my beloved wife was another. We placed ourselves between the darkness and our country and we were not found wanting. We made supreme sacrifices, and we would gladly do so once more to protect all that we have fought for and achieved."

"Unfortunately, such sacrifices came at a great personal cost to myself. I cannot reveal exactly what those are, for they are Warden secrets and I am still a Warden, but the time has come for the end of my stewardship of this castle and my role as your Teyrn. I must go to Orzammar, and battle the darkspawn that remain within their darkest depths."

Utter silence dominated the hall. Aedan's three children were staring at him, unable to look away. He regretted not telling them sooner, but it was too late to worry about such things.

"Not all news I have tonight are grim, however," continued Aedan, managing to smile a little. "As my son and heir, Rolann shall inherit the title of Teyrn and assume stewardship of this house and its lands once I have gone. He has been cultivating the skills necessary for good governance as a prominent member of the Circle Tower Senior Council and I trust he will make an excellent Teyrn of Highever."

Aedan turned to face his children, who looked as though he had transformed into a fire-spitting dragon. Darien's mouth was agape, he probably didn't know how silly he appeared. Aeryn refused to meet his eyes, clutching compulsively at the sleeve of her gown. And Rolann looked steadily back, looking for all the world as though he remained unmoved by these revelations, but Aedan knew his son well and beneath that cool front was pure shock.

The buzz that returned was intensified a hundredfold, with some cheers and enthusiastic applause. Aedan fought to stop the feeling of satisfaction he felt that came with utterly wrongfooting his usually assured son, whose face had gone as blank as a slate.

"Also, my daughter Aeryn will no longer be cracking skulls and knocking knights off their horses in tournaments," said Aedan. Good natured laughs and whistles came from some of the guests. Aeryn looked up, wide-eyed. "She has been betrothed to Prince Duncan, heir of King Alistair and crown prince of the royal Theirin line since she was a babe. Tomorrow we leave for Denerim where she will be married to the prince, which means she shall be your next reigning Queen of Ferelden."

The cheer that greeted this piece of news was tremendous. Dust shook from the rafters in the ceiling, plates jumped off the table and flagons crashed to the floor. As charming as Rolann was, he was little more than a stranger to most of the people here. By contrast everyone knew Aeryn and because of her penchant of helping people who couldn't defend themselves with her band of knights, she had become quite popular around Highever.

Aeryn's jaw dropped unbidden, making her resemble her younger brother for an instant. She then looked bewilderedly at the cheering guests, many of whom were standing on the benches and applauding wildly. She then leaned over and whispered urgently to her mother, who smiled and quietly escorted her out of the hall. Darien followed the pair of them. Satisfied at getting it over with, Aedan sat back down and pulled a platter of chicken legs towards him, his appetite having returned.

The noise level had been kicked up. A bunch of important dignitaries had come to Aedan to offer their personal pledges of support for his chosen heir. A few of the smarter ones were making their way to Rolann instead, sensing the way the wind was blowing.

Rolann ignored them. Standing up, he raised his arms and swept the hood from his head. Something about his dark eyes made everyone pause for a moment.

"Good people, I am just as surprised as you are by my father's announcement. I am humbled and honoured to have the opportunity of serving as your next Teyrn."

Aedan finished his third chicken leg and started on his fourth.

"However, it is with great regret that I must decline my father's gift. I had hoped to make this announcement with his blessing, but well..."

Rolann grinned and folded his arms.

"I fear that I cannot serve as your Teyrn to the best of my ability...while joining the ranks of the famed Grey Wardens."

Aedan choked on a piece of his chicken.

"I have decided that the best use of my talents are to place them in the service of the Grey Wardens, as my father has done before me. I shall leave for Amaranthine shortly to undertake the Joining Ritual."

A round of cheers greeted his proclamation. Aedan grabbed his son by the shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he hissed furiously.

"I'm sorry father, I know I should have told you earlier, but you really knocked me for a loop there by making me the new Teyrn..."

"That's not what I meant! What is this fool talk of joining the Grey Wardens?"

"What's wrong with joining the Wardens?" asked Rolann. He had stopped smiling.

"Rolann, you cannot join the Grey Wardens. To do so would mean terrible danger not only to you, but very likely all of Ferelden!"

"What? Why? Wardens face danger in battle, but no more than any other soldier or mage."

"This is my fault. This is all my fault, Maker forgive me," sighed Aedan. He suddenly looked very old and very tired, and Rolann felt a little uncomfortable. He could not recall ever seeing his father looking so vulnerable or miserable.

"Son, let's leave. We need to talk. There's some things I need to tell you...truths that should not have been kept from you. I had hoped to shield you from the worst of it, but there's no more time."

Aedan nodded to Seneschal Vordun, and took his leave. Rolann followed him, utterly confused.

"We'll talk it over, your mother, Aeryn and Darien, and the both of us. This is a family matter, but one that could change the course of this nation."

Aedan moved swiftly through the quiet passageways leading back to his chambers, where he knew his wife and other children had went.

"Maker forgive me for what I've done."


	4. Family Meeting

**Chapter Four - Family Meeting**

**Dragon Age 9:55**

**The bedchambers of the Teyrn **

**Castle Cousland**

The only reason Aeryn Cousland had not spilled any blood yet was because she didn't have a weapon at hand. Well, and the fact that she was in the company of her mother and brother. But she was in the mood for a little violence.

"Married? To Duncan? When were you going to tell me, mother? On the wedding day itself?"

Darien could barely contain his mirth.

"Ryn's gonna have to learn how to act like a proper lady now. No more sword fights and jousts, here comes the embroidery and ensuring the continuation of the Theirin line!"

Aeryn whirled on her heel and advanced menacingly upon her younger brother.

"Darien I have said this hundreds of times, but I have never been more serious. If you say another word, I will hack off your head. Then I will throw it into Lake Calenhad. And then I will take your headless body and feed it to the Mabari hounds. I'll make sure Baskerville gets your heart."

"Sheesh, settle down for the Maker's sake."

"Darien, please don't take His name in vain," chided Leliana mildly.

"You are missing the point, mother! I don't even remember anything about this betrothal! Why am I getting married all of a sudden?

"We've told you countless times that you've been betrothed to Duncan."

"Well I don't remember a thing. Why couldn't you have told me again?"

"Aeryn, if your father and I did tell you earlier would your reaction have been any different?"

"Maybe not, but at least then I'd get more time to yell about it!"

"Darling please try to be reasonable about this," sighed Leliana.

"I will not be reasonable! First father leaves us to fight darkspawn, then I find out I have to go marry Duncan! And he's...and he's..."

"What is he exactly?" asked Leliana.

"He's never serious! He's always socializing and making stupid jokes. Remember that time he almost got me killed?"

"He was a foolish young boy at the time. As I recall Darien had a lot to do with it."

"Hey! Mom, I can't believe you said that."

"He's a foolish young boy who's grown up to be a foolish young man. Besides, he's - "

"Handsome, charming, and a very well-mannered young man who's been a good friend of yours ever since you were little children?"

"That's so shallow of you mother. Looks aren't everything, you know," muttered Aeryn.

"Of course they aren't, but Duncan's not just another pretty face. You two practically grew up together. He might be a bit of a dandy, but his heart's in the right place. You know, Queen Anora didn't quite take to the idea. Your father and I had to work hard to persuade the king to agree to this match."

"That's just wonderful. Now I can look forward to having both a mother and a mother-in-law who wants to ruin my life."

"Darling, what exactly is so bad about marrying Duncan and becoming queen?"

"What about letting me choose what I want to do with my life?"

Leliana placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "Aeryn I let your father train you like a knight with some reservations. We've both led lives filled with violence and senseless death. I never wanted my children to have to go through the things we did. Although I'd hoped to shield you from the world's dangers, I'm not a fool. You've learned to protect yourself, and you've made me so proud by protecting others.

But there's so much more you can do as a ruler of this country, making decisions from the capital that will affect so many lives. You have the potential to do great good, darling, and be remembered as one of the finest women Ferelden has ever known. Duncan is a likeable boy, but if he's to be a fair and just ruler he needs a strong wife on whom he can depend. Don't you see how highly your father and I think of you?"

Aeryn bit her lip. She could see the truth of her mother's words. She'd never told anyone, but there were quite a few times where she'd thought she could run the country much better than the current government.

Darien relaxed on a stuffed armchair. "Oh I know that look. I think Ryn's liking the idea of the crown and robes made out of halla fur, mom."

Aeryn threw a hairbrush at him, which Darien ducked. "Don't you ever take anything seriously?" she exclaimed.

"Not me," said Darien, stretching his arms. "You get to be queen. Rolann gets Highever, not to mention the Circle Tower in a couple years or so. I'm gonna be a knight and wander all over Thedas, doing great deeds and having all kinds of adventures. Just like mom and dad did when they were young and crazy. Not a care in the world."

"You might want to cancel your plans, little brother," said Rolann. He came into the room, followed by Aedan.

"Huh? Why?"

"You weren't there, but I've just announced that I will be joining the Grey Wardens. I can't give Highever the time and attention it needs, and with Aeryn off to Denerim that leaves you as father's heir."

"You're joining the Grey Wardens?" asked Darien excitedly. "That's a great idea! You'll make an excellent Warden, Ro."

"That's what I thought. At least, until father objected." Rolann turned to Aedan. "Well, you said this was a private matter. There's nobody here but us. Can you tell me now why I can't join them?"

"Rolann...son...can't you just accept that I have my reasons? Things that are better left unsaid? Can you respect my last wish and succeed me as Highever's Teyrn and not join the Wardens?"

Rolann folded his arms. "No, father. I want to hear the whole story. I want to hear the truth. I think that's the least I deserve. I don't see why I shouldn't be allowed to join. You said it could endanger Ferelden? How is that possible?"

Aedan crossed the room to where Leliana was sitting on the bed and sank to his knees before her. His children exchanged uneasy glances. There was something wrong about seeing their father so vulnerable in what looked like a private moment, something obscene. For their entire lives they had never seen him as anything but calm, steady and self-assured, if a little prone to shouting. The fact of his strength was a comfortable pillar of their lives, and they were seeing the cracks in it for the first time.

"Leliana, I am so sorry for hurting you. I love you and I never meant to hurt you," said Aedan.

Leliana gently lifted his chin and gave her husband a long, deep kiss. She pulled back and kissed him again on the forehead.

"Aedan dear, listen to me. I won't deny that I've spent a long time being mad at you. I won't pretend that what you did hurt me to the core. But I realised that after all we've said and done, at that core lies one simple truth. I love you too, you ridiculous sweet man. I've long forgiven you, as I've hoped you forgiven my many mistakes over the years. You've given me so much, my love. This family, this life we've built together. I am still yours, and that will never change."

"You don't know how much it means for me to hear you say that," said Aedan, kissing her hand. Leliana threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek.

"You've spent your entire life making it up to me, Aedan Cousland. Don't you think it's time to forgive yourself?"

"Yes, you're right. No more secrets. Rolann, you said you deserved the truth. Perhaps you do, although I suspect you won't like it. Few men do."

"Go ahead, father. I need to hear whatever it is you have to tell me," said Rolann forcefully, although the merest waver could be heard in his voice.

Aedan sat on the bed, holding Leliana's hand. The simple contact seemed to have given him a renewed strength of purpose.

"All right. This concerns Grey Warden secrets that can never be told to anyone. Anyone at all, under pain of death. You must swear on your lives never to divulge what I am going to tell you tonight, or the Grey Wardens will hunt you down and kill you. I am not exaggerating. This is deadly business."

"We promise," said his three children.

"Very well then."


	5. Revelations

**Chapter Five - Revelations**

**Dragon Age 9:30**

**1 month after the Battle of Denerim**

**Guest bedchamber, the Royal Palace, Denerim**

Aedan lay on his back, basking in the post coital glow. He felt warm and comfortable. But most of all, he felt safe. Nobody was trying to kill him. No assassins lurked in the shadows, waiting for a chance to slide a knife between his ribs. The archdemon was dead. The darkspawn armies had fled. The nobles had pledged their support to the new king. All was right with the world.

Leliana rested her head on Aedan's chest, one arm draped over him. She loved listening to his heartbeat, feeling her head rise and fall slightly with each breath he took. She treasured these times the most, the quiet periods after their wild, marathon lovemaking sessions where furniture would inadvertently end up getting broken. The simple fact that Aedan was by her side caused such intense feelings within her had unnerved her a little at first.

She'd never felt this way before about any person before, not even Marjolaine, who had professed to love her but always kept her at arm's length emotionally, and had betrayed her without a second thought. When Aedan had clutched his side and fallen after dealing the final, killing blow to the archdemon, she had felt terror unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

He had lain in a deep, almost coma-like sleep for four days, each breath ragged, his face as white as a blight wolf. Despite protests and pleas from Wynne and the others, she had not slept a wink for every one of those days, spending every minute in prayer. When Aedan had finally awakened, it was as if the Maker had once again reached down from the heavens and granted her deepest desire.

She never thought she would fall in love with a man. Growing up as a young girl in Orlais, she had never swooned over the handsome young chevaliers and their squires the way her fellow serving maids did. During the evenings while they chattered and laughed as they finished the day's chores, Leliana would only smile demurely as her friends asked her about which man she had her eye on, preferring instead the grand and beautiful ladies who paid visits to Lady Cecilie.

Later, as a bard in the employ of Marjolaine, she merely had to beckon a finger and both men and women would fall headlong into her bed. She had to tread very carefully, for some of them were prominent and powerful, and either commanded whole armies or had enough coin to buy one. But she didn't care. It was all worth it as long as she thought she had Marjolaine's love. However after overstepping her ambitions in the Orlesian political scene Marjolaine had discarded Leliana without a second thought, interested only in preserving her own life.

She had fled Orlais entirely, barely staying a step ahead of the Empress's Inquisitors. She travelled all the way to Ferelden, the land she had only known about from her mother's stories. She found blessed refuge and relief in Lothering's chantry, trying to forget all traces of her former dark deeds in the sedate rituals of chantry life.

And then Aedan had burst into her life.

**Dragon Age 9:30**

**The Village of Lothering**

"Please, show mercy to these men," pleaded Leliana. She had just ducked into the tavern for a minute to listen to the minstrels and found herself fighting for her life against a band of mercenaries. Well, they claimed they were enlisted soldiers in the service of Teyrn Loghain. But Leliana knew a mercenary when she fought one.

Despite wearing her restrictive chantry robes and armed only with the dagger she had managed to conceal from the Revered Mother, Leliana had relived her old days by killing three men before they could utter a second word. Along with the other strange travellers, they had made short work of the band of thugs. Most had died, their bodies lying in crumpled heaps on the floor. But a handful had survived, and they were on their knees begging for their lives.

"We can't let them go, they'll tell Loghain where we are! Then he'll send assassins after us. Sneaky, backstabbing...assassins. There'd be so many they'll be lining up to slit our throats," protested one of the travellers, a young man with sandy-coloured hair and the merest hint of a beard dusting his chin. He wore splintmail and had used the distinctive, overbearing templar style of swordplay during the fight. After time at the chantry Leliana had gotten used to seeing it, although the young man didn't wear the plate and helm of a templar.

"As much as it pains me to admit that Alistair is right, I have to agree. We have important work to do and t'would be a bother to be continually looking over our shoulders for fear of Loghain's agents. Kill them and be done," said another of the little group, a skinny woman with dark hair and piercing amber eyes, dressed in the oddest collection of leather strips, furs and feathers. She wielded what looked like a staff fashioned from a tree branch, and had tossed around magic with as little concern as one might use a spade. Accredited mages were rare this far south of the Tower, but everyone had heard tales of the witches in the Korcari wilds.

"To be fair, Morrigan, we're kind of doing that already," said the one who appeared to be named Alistair. He had wiped his sword clean and put it carefully back in its scabbard.

"I knew it couldn't last," muttered the haughty woman, Morrigan. She deliberately set her back to Alistair, as if looking at him caused her intense physical pain.

The last man had not spoken. He was tall, taller than Alistair and much bigger than Morrigan, who was tall for a woman. He had chin-length black hair and a little goatee, which had probably been neatly trimmed at one point but had not seen careful grooming for several days at least. He had wielded his sword with the fury of a dwarven berserker during the fight, and the white-and-green laurel wreath emblem on his shield proclaimed him to be from Highever, far to the north. He looked curiously at Leliana, and his deep grey eyes made her heart flutter, much to her surprise.

"Why should we spare these men? They are traitors, and cowards, the lowest of the low. If we let them go they will spread word of our survival back to Teyrn Loghain, who let King Cailan die at Ostagar as surely as if he had hanged him himself." His speech was refined and educated, with none of the harsh dialect one heard from a peasant working the fields. He spoke with the voice of a man used to having his words obeyed.

A few men at the back of the tavern piped up at the mention of the Teyrn. "Loghain is a hero! You Grey Wardens were the ones who killed the king!" Sheathing his sword, the man crossed the room in a few quick strides, lifted the offending onlooker bodily by the front of his shirt and hurled him onto a table, sending flagons and bits of crockery crashing to the floor.

"We are not the traitors here!" he roared, his face inches from the man's own. "Loghain has gone mad, he turned tail and fled the battlefield, leaving the king to die! Leaving my fellow Wardens to die. Leaving my brother to die, as he let Arl Howe murder the rest of my family. Call me a traitor again and I will fight you face to face, and believe me when I say that I do not intend to lose."

He let go, and the frightened man scrambled to his feet, and raced out of the tavern. Leliana watched him go, her heart hammering. The man was a Grey Warden, like one from the tales! But the Teyrn had declared his order to be guilty of treason, although hardly anyone believed it for a second.

There was another reason why she had been on the lookout for any sign of the Wardens. The Maker himself had shown her a sign, that she had been chosen to prevent the Blight from overruning Ferelden. For weeks she had kept watch, hoping against hope to join up with their party. Their paths had finally crossed at last.

"There, do you see?" sighed the Highever warrior, sinking down onto an unbroken chair. "Even if that idiot keeps his mouth shut, there are too many people in this tavern and village who would spill their guts just for a crust of bread from Loghain's soldiers. We'd have to kill every last man, woman and child to keep them quiet."

"Perhaps that could be arranged - "

"Not happening, Morrigan."

Morrigan stopped speaking and looked annoyed.

The warrior turned his attention back to Leliana. "I'm of a mind to kill these men anyway. They tried to murder me and my companions, and I haven't even had dinner yet. I'm not in the best of moods."

"You are Grey Wardens," said Leliana. "You are better than them. You were chosen because you were better than men like them. There already has been enough bloodshed. These men are no match for you, let them go."

"**** you - " began one of the stupider mercenaries, before being interrupted by a heavy boot to the head. Leliana winced as he fell the the ground, spitting out a bloody tooth.

"Watch your language in the presence of women. If you're going to talk to that sneering smarmy son of a bitch, you're going to do it right. Take a message to him, straight from me. The Grey Wardens he sent to die still live. He doesn't know when, he doesn't know where. He doesn't know if we'll come alone or with an army at our backs. But I can guarantee that he will die at our hands. Ask him to take good care of himself, because I want to be the one to choke the life from his body. And I've got a pike with which I intend to shove up Arl Howe's most personal orifice, so you make sure he hears that from me. Now get out of my sight."

Moaning and groaning, the mercenaries left the tavern.

"Well I certainly don't forsee any problems arising from that decision some time later in our futures," remarked the witch-woman sarcastically, joining the man at the table and leaning her staff against her chair.

"I think he's right. Too many people already know we're here. Loghain will find out sooner or later," said the templar with the sandy blonde hair, pulling up another chair and snatching up a miraculously unspilled mug of ale with some delight.

The Highever warrior wasn't listening. He was scrutinising Leliana with a suspicious gaze that made her slightly uncomfortable. "You displayed considerable skill in that little scrap. Unusual for a sister of the chantry."

"I...picked up a few skills. You know, here and there. They'll be of great use to you on our travels together, as the Maker commanded."

The affable young templar spat out a bit of ale. The haughty woman narrowed her eyes at Leliana. But the Highever warrior merely continued to meet her earnest gaze, not even blinking.

"Really. Well if we're going to be new best friends, I'd like to know your name."

"I'm called Leliana."

"Pretty name," mused the man from Highever. He smiled suddenly, and that joyous expression on a face so war weary was like finding a rose blooming in the deep snow.

"I'm Aedan. Pleased to meet you."

**Shift**

She had felt it then, the moment she laid eyes on him. She was attracted to him in the way she had only ever been to other women before. As they grew closer she began to fall in love with his dry wit, his unyielding optimism, his compassion and honesty in a world she thought had grown irredeemably dark. And to her utter joy and delight, Aedan loved her too. Wholly, unreservedly, and with all his heart.

He didn't care about her past, just where their futures would lie. He made her feel safe when she was with him, whether walking down a lonely forest path or making love by the light of the stars. He loved her and asked for absolutely nothing in return, just her love, trust and support, which she was more than willing to give. He'd do anything for her, be it defeat the Blight or searching an entire meadow to present her with a single stalk of Andraste's Grace based on a chance recollection of a childhood memory. She thanked the Maker day and night for allowing her to find true love and happiness after a lifetime of deceit and lies.

"Hi," she said drowsily, reaching for his hand and holding it. Those hands had dealt death and destruction to a thousand living beings, although Aedan held her as gently and lovingly as if she had been made out of priceless porcelain. "What are you thinking about?"

"You. Us. Life. And how I could really go for a side of beef right about now."

Leliana pinched his side, making him yell. "You dummy. Always with the wisecracks. I swear, you and Alistair are so much alike. I think you really are brothers."

Aedan covered his mouth with mock horror. "You are impugning the honour and memory of my poor dead mother, harridan. I have no other choice but to challenge you to a duel to the death. Choose your weapon, sirrah."

"I could think of a few," said Leliana wickedly, her hand drifting down Aedan's chest and stomach, and going further still, her fingers deftly stroking and caressing. "How about this one?"

Aedan groaned involuntary. "By the Maker, I sometimes wonder if you're really a sister of a chantry, and not some super-assassin-Orlesian-spy-Inquisitor."

Leliana clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Aedan, you know I don't like you talking about those days. I'm ashamed of what I've done, but what I'm more ashamed of is not being honest with you about it right from the start. So much could have been avoided. There should be absolute trust in a relationship, no? So few couples can say that they have no secrets between them," she said, snuggling closer. But to her surprise, Aedan turned away from her.

"Aedan? Darling, what's wrong?" she asked. Aedan didn't reply for several long minutes. Then he said something in a trembling, weak voice that she had never heard from him before, something that made her heart beat faster.

"I...haven't been entirely honest with you, Leliana."

"What is it? What are you talking about?" said Leliana, the first edges of fear beginning to creep into her mind.

Aedan sat up and buried his face in his hands. His voice sounded strained, faint and faraway as if every word was struggling to escape from the bottom of a deep well. "When I fought that archdemon, I nearly died. I lived, and you said it was a miracle. The truth is a little different from that. I wanted, shamefully, to keep you in the dark, to not tell you because telling you would make you hate me, and I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. You were completely open with me, and I haven't been enough of a man to do the same for you."

"Aedan. What did you do?" said Leliana, her voice flat, dead. Cold. A tone she'd never dreamed she'd use while speaking to Aedan, but was coming from her mouth all the same.

As if by an enormous effort of will, Aedan forced himself to look at her. "Leli, do you know why we need Grey Wardens to kill an archdemon?"

"Tell me," she said, in that same dead tone.

"Archdemons...they're basically elder gods, tainted by darkspawn corruption. No mere mortal can destroy a god with just a piece of metal. If anyone but a Warden managed to kill an archdemon, its spirit, its soul would just escape and return once more. But because we Wardens have a bit of that taint inside us, we can destroy the archdemon completely. Ensuring that it never rises again. However in the process...it would destroy the soul of the man or woman who dealt the blow. Utterly. It would be as if the Warden had never been born."

"I've never heard that before," said Leliana.

"Nor will you ever. That's the reason why the Joining is secret, no one is supposed to know, otherwise we'd never get people to sign up."

"But you killed the archdemon, and you didn't die."

"I know."

Leliana forced herself not to shriek. "So what happened then?"

Aedan stopped for a while, as if unwilling to continue. After sighing heavily, he spoke a single word. "Morrigan."

Leliana felt something deep inside her shatter into pieces. Dark thoughts, _red _thoughts of primal violence and fear and hate welled up inside her, murderous impulses she thought she had buried forever. She'd always known that the witch had her eye on Aedan, but she was confident that she had won him away from her forever. Now she was listening to this hideous confession, that certainty had suddenly disappeared. Blood pounded in her brain as she forced herself to stop clawing the bedsheets to bits.

Aedan went on in a rush. "Before the battle, on our last night at Redcliffe, Morrigan came to me with a plan. She had an idea, you see, from reading her mother's grimoire of ancient magic. It was a ritual, one that would ensure my survival even if I had to strike down the archdemon."

"What was it?" she said with deceptive quietness.

"It had to be me, she said it had to be me. She wasn't sure it would work with someone as old as Riordan, and she flatly refused to involve Alistair, and I couldn't let him die, Leli, I love him too much. You said he was a brother to me and you were right, I couldn't just let him kill the archdemon and die. And there was the realm to think of, without a king Ferelden would have fallen apart," Aedan babbled, his words coming out in a rush.

"Damn it Cousland, what did you do with the witch? _What did you do_?" Leliana screamed. She had never raised her voice at him in anger, not even when he had taken just a little while too long to decide not to defile the sacred ashes of Andraste herself. But this was a night of firsts. She glared at him, her eyes flashing with fury.

"She said I had to conceive a child with her, Leli. The ritual would capture the spirit of the old god and allow it to be kindled within the soul of that child."

The blood that had been pounding in her head and face drained away, leaving her as cold as the stone on a dwarven grave. She didn't want to believe the words, she wanted to scream and hit the man she thought would never hurt her until he took them back and swore that he was lying. But the proof was there, was it not? He had killed the archdemon and lived to tell the tale, and despite all the stories she knew she had never heard of such a thing for untold centuries.

"I did it," whispered Aedan. "I slept with her that night. She's carrying my child."

Leliana let out a choked sob, and the sound of it broke Aedan's heart. He tried to reach for her hand but she jerked away as if his hand was a venomous serpent.

"Don't you dare touch me. Don't you dare to try and look for me. I never want to see you again," seethed Leliana, in a voice so full of fury and hate it was barely recognisable. She leapt out of bed and rushed out of the room, barely pausing to pick up her dressing gown.

"Leli! Leliana, wait!" screamed Aedan, trying to go after her. But when he poked his head out of the chamber door, she was already gone.

**Shift**

Aedan had endured many sleepless nights after that. Despite her warning he tried to look for her, but even after spending a fortune in bribes all over Denerim the most anyone would say was that they thought they had seen a red-haired woman in leather in a crowd sometime before. He barely ate and completely abandoned the post-war reconstruction effort that Arl Eamon was overseeing. He'd bullied Oghren and Zevran into helping him, but even they had turned up nothing. After searching through every major town and city in Ferelden, he found himself retracing his steps to where it had all began, the village of Lothering.

The town had been attacked and completely overrun by darkspawn not long after he had met Sten and Leliana. Everywhere he went, everyone he met had heard horrifying rumours of the attack. It had become more than just a destroyed town, it was a symbol of the Blight's corruption on Ferelden. Armies had been rallied with the cry of '_Remember Lothering_!'

Aedan trudged along the roads in a filthy temper. Every single one of his remaining companions save Baskerville had stridently refused to accompany him to Lothering. They'd insisted it was futile, little more than a ghost town. Arl Eamon had informed him there was a rebuilding effort of sorts taking place there, but the Crown's resources were focused on the capital for the present.

It was raining hard, absolutely bucketing down. The rain poured down the back of his travelling cloak. Mud splattered his boots and armour. He had elected to forgo plate in favour of heavy chainmail, and was sorely regretting his decision as the rain seeped its way into the crevices and soaked him to the bone.

Baskerville trotted beside him, tail down, his doggy face set in an almost human-like expression of utter misery. Every so often he would look up and give Aedan an uncharacteristically dirty look. His fur was so drenched he looked like a monster from the swamps.

"Don't blame me, Bask," muttered Aedan. "We're looking for Leliana. You remember Leli, don't you? She gave you treats."

Baskerville walked on in dignified silence, without even deigning to bark.

"We're looking for her because your master was a colossal idiot and let the best thing in his life slip away from him and now she hates him forever."

Baskerville did bark at this, the bark Aedan had come to associate with assent.

"Everyone's a Makerdamned critic."

They crested a little hill and Aedan looked upon the village of Lothering for the first time since before the Blight attack.

He hadn't thought much about what to expect. The stories of the attack on the village were so wild and conflicting they sometimes contradicted each other. Aedan would have bet on little more than a smoking hole in the ground.

It was much more than that. Almost all of the wooden huts had been burned down. Some of the smaller stone buildings had been torn apart. The tavern where he and Leliana had first met was gone. But the stone bridge across the little river still stood. And the chantry was right where he remembered it was.

Aedan was perplexed at first. He'd naturally assumed that the darkspawn would have made the chantry their first target. On closer inspection he noticed it wasn't precisely the same shape it was before. It had been destroyed all right, but it had been put back together.

Groups of refugees huddled under makeshift tents outside the chantry, taking shelter from the rain. A continuous stream of people moved in and out of the doors, carrying food to and fro from the building. Aedan's keen eye caught piles of tools and building materials beside the people. They were attempting to rebuild their homes, all without outside help.

Aedan made his way to the chantry, earning curious glances from the people who weren't wearing armour or weapons of any kind. He was stopped at the front door by a templar on guard.

"Halt, ser. State your name and business."

"Aedan Cousland of Highever. I'm here to look for...a friend."

"Maker's beard! You're the Hero of Ferelden!" said the templar. He saluted respectfully. "Who are you looking for, milord? Perchance I could assist."

"One of my companions, Leliana of Orlais. She has red hair, green eyes and a trace of the accent."

"That sounds an awful lot like Sister Marjolaine," mused the templar, scratching his chin. "She comes in every now and then to lend a hand. She might be inside."

Hope rising in his heart, Aedan entered the chantry.

All chantries were designed the same, rows of wooden pews facing an altar decked with lit candles. This one was packed to the rafters with people. They were handing out plates of food from huge steaming pots, eating together and talking amongst themselves. The din was tremendous.

Baskerville, glad of a chance to be in the dry and warm shook himself vigorously all over, splashing water onto everyone around him. Aedan pushed his way past the main chamber into one of the two anterooms. They usually held libraries and were used to teach children the Chant of Light. If she was in the chantry, Aedan knew he would find her here.

A group of children were sitting on the floor in a rough circle, their attention focused on a young woman sitting on a chair before them. A hood obscured her face, and she was speaking in a soft voice.

"The Maker looked upon the world, and saw Andraste singing of His glory and compassion. He was so moved by her beauty and grace He chose her to spread the Chant to all the corners of the world."

"I knew someone like that once," said Aedan from the back of the room.

The woman stopped speaking, and stilled her movements. She did not look up. Baskerville padded over to her side and licked her hand. She scratched behind his ears fondly.

"Sister Marjolaine, is the story finished?" piped up a young girl.

"It is for now, Wendola. Everyone, go and have your lunch. Be back in about an hour's time."

The children got up and made their way to the serving lines, chattering and laughing.

"Flattery is unbecoming of you, Lord Cousland. You were never any good at it."

"I know," said Aedan, moving closer. "But you liked it all the same."

"That was before," she said. "From the man I once loved."

"Leliana," Aedan began, reaching for her hand. But she turned away from him.

"Please. Not here. Here I am simply known as Sister Marjolaine, a lay sister who assists with the rebuilding of Lothering. Its people deserve better from their king."

"It's not Alistair's fault, Arl Earmon convinced him that Denerim was the higher priority - "

"I don't want to hear it. All I know is that there are people here who need my help."

They stopped talking for a while. Baskerville lay down beside a fireplace, turned around about a hundred times, and promptly fell asleep. His fur began to steam.

"Why Marjolaine?" asked Aedan, breaking the silence.

"I wanted a name other than Leliana of Orlais, who left Lothering behind the instant she saw a Grey Warden. A name that reminded me of my biggest mistake. To keep me humble. It was wrong of me to have abandoned Lothering and left with you."

"Leli what are you talking about? Lothering was overrun, you would have been killed."

"I could have helped the people defend themselves. I could have saved lives. I could have done more."

"You saved more lives by helping me, Leli, I could have never done it without you."

"Is that what you really believe?"

"Yes! Please Leli, please come home with me. I know what I did was wrong, but I can't live without you in my life. I love you more than anything on this earth. Please, give me another chance."

Leliana pushed back her hood and Aedan found himself looking at her for the first time in months. Her hair, which she had been growing out, was once more cut short in the Orlesian pageboy style she had when they first met.

"How can you say that to me Aedan? After what you did? I thought you loved me. I thought you would never hurt me. How could you have taken that witch's bargain?" Leliana said heatedly.

"What else could I have done? If Morrigan hadn't performed the ritual, either Alistair or I would have been dead. I couldn't let him die. I had to choose between his life or being loyal to you. How do you think I felt?"

"Aedan you could persuade a bereskarn to sit on its hind legs and beg for a treat. You managed to convince a roomful of nobles whom Loghain had been working on for months to support you in about five minutes. You could have talked the witch into performing the ritual with Alistair or Riordan."

"She flat out refused - "

"So you didn't even try."

"I don't know what to say, Leli. It tore me up," said Aedan, running his fingers through his hair, something he did under duress. "Maybe I could have persuaded Morrigan otherwise, but I didn't even think of it at the time. All I could see was this choice, hanging in front of me. Either Alistair's life, or me breaking my vows to you."

Leliana said nothing. Aedan went on. "A year ago, before all this, I would have told her to bugger off and sacrificed my life to kill the archdemon. My family was murdered. My home destroyed. What better way to go out than in a blaze of glory?"

"But that was before I met you. I never thought I could be as happy as you made me. I never thought I could meet someone I could love so completely. I didn't want to die, Leli, because it meant I couldn't be with you."

"I...I don't want you to die either," Leliana whispered.

Aedan, hoping against hope, reached out his hand. After a heartbeat, Leliana took it in hers.

"I miss you so much, Leli. Please, come back with me to Denerim."

"I can't. There's so many people here who need my help. They have little in the way of resources and materials. If we don't get a few decent sized buildings up by winter, these people will have nowhere to live."

"So you're staying here with them?"

"I have to."

"Right. Then we're staying too."

Leliana gave him an odd look. "Don't you have important things to do at the capital? Doesn't Eamon need your help?"

"He can get along fine without me for a while. I wasn't doing much good anyway, I went half-mad trying to look for you. Even Zevran and Oghren couldn't track you down."

Leliana laughed, the tinkling sound like music over the hubbub of the chantry. "Those two never had a chance...but I thought I made it clear you weren't allowed to look for me, Aedan."

"How could I not look for you?" said Aedan. "I was going out of my mind worrying about you. I don't want to lose you, Leli. I can't. I saved this country so that you and I could build a life together. I'd give all of it up, the titles, the honours, the treasure, just to get you back. Without you it would all have been for nothing."

Aedan took a breath and went on.

"I am sorry for what I did. Please, give me a chance to make it up to you."

Leliana leaned close and gave him a light, soft kiss right on his lips.

"I've had a lot of time to think things over. You...did what you did to save Alistair. I know you, Aedan. You love him like a brother. If you could have sacrificed yourself to save him, you would have done so without a second thought."

Leliana took a deep breath and went on.

"But if that had happened, then I would have lost you. If you had let Alistair die, I would have lost you just as surely, because you would never have forgiven yourself. If the decision had been mine, I would have let Alistair take the killing stroke without a second thought. He is a dear friend, and the king, but I would sacrifice him, the realm and more if it meant one more day with you. But you Aedan...you couldn't make that decision. You can't. You go to extraordinary lengths to save the people you love and the people you barely even know because that's what defines you. That's the man I fell in love with. If you weren't, you wouldn't be Aedan Cousland."

"I made a promise, my love," she continued. "To be by your side to whatever end. Nothing has changed. I do not forget it."

A flood of relief washed over Aedan as he threw his arms around her, grateful beyond words for her forgiveness. Leliana let herself fall into the achingly familiar warmth of his embrace. She had missed this despite trying to hate him, during all those lonely nights away from his side. Even after weeks had passed she had felt strange going to bed alone and waking up alone, not being able to feel Aedan's heartbeat or hear the sound of his laughter.

"I love you, Leliana. I always have and always will,"

"I love you too. Don't ever do this to me again."

"I won't. I promise."

**1 month later**

Aedan hoisted the hoe above his head and brought it down hard on the earth below. He was stripped to his waist and had been working for hours digging a new field for the farmers. With it they could grow their own food and not have to depend on charity from the passing merchants, people Aedan had never really associated with charity.

Quite a number of young women were loitering about, revelling in watching the handsome young lord work the earth like any other peasant. A few older men were doing the exact same thing, laughing themselves sick if Aedan so much as held his tools wrong. Only the knowledge that Leliana would not approve was preventing Aedan from going berserker on them.

"Makerdamned...spawnscrewing...demon-infested sons of bitches," Aedan swore to himself, completing the last furrow. He slipped on a bit of loose earth and fell flat on his arse, prompting another round of mirth from the onlookers. Several were crying tears of laughter and one berk was even on the ground holding his sides. Aedan looked up at the sky and prayed to the Maker to utterly destroy the village of Lothering, and properly this time. Nothing happened. The sun was high in the sky and birds chirped idly from the trees.

"Be careful you great big ox," called Leliana, carrying a mug of something and stepping daintily over the plowed field without spilling a drop. "How is it you can be so efficient on a blood soaked dungeon floor and lose your balance in a simple field?"

Aedan glared at her and gulped down the cold water thirstily. "I am a Teyrn's son, after all - "

"Making this the roughly fifteen millionth time you've told me."

"Ha ha, very funny. I grew up learning how to fight, by the Maker. Not dig a field. Hand me a broken dagger and suit those idiots up in the finest plate you can find and I'll still hammer them."

"That is true," said Leliana, sitting on the ground beside him. "But hand them spades and hoes and give you a horse drawn plough, and they'll be done faster than you. It's just the way of things."

Aedan looked so grumpy and bad-tempered Leliana couldn't resist dumping the other flask of water she brought over his head. More laughter from the onlookers roared forth. Aedan wiped his eyes, then picked up Leliana in his arms in one smooth movement, making her yelp with surprise.

"Aedan! What are you doing?"

"I think it's time we took a break, Sister Marjolaine. What say we proceed to somewhere more private?"

"Mmm," said Leliana flirtatiously, tracing the lines of his muscles over his bare chest. "That sounds like a marvellous idea my Lord Cousland. I'm afraid that your 'break' will be far more tiring than it is refreshing..."

"Oh ye of little faith. Have you not heard tales of Grey Warden endurance?"

"Promises, promises," said Leliana, planting kisses on his face and neck.

A shout from the village interrupted their little exchange. It was the templar, and he was running full tilt towards the fields as fast as his legs could carry him. Aedan set Leliana on the ground, sensing something was wrong.

"Lord Cousland!" shouted the templar. "Bandits! A whole host of them! They're headed this way!"

In an instant Aedan snapped into the familiar role of the battle commander. The people within earshot had begun to panic and scream. Aedan shot Leliana a look, and she understood him immediately.

"People of Lothering!" called Leliana in an authoritative tone. "Take shelter in the chantry, quickly! Bar the doors and block the windows. We will defend the village against this threat."

"But there's only Lord Cousland and Ser Athos!" cried a man. "Surely you must need some help!"

"If you want to grab your weapons, fine," said Aedan in a ringing tone, one that brooked no disobedience. "But you will remain locked within the chantry, defending your families. You people are the better farmers, but this is what I do best. In battle you will be more hindrance than help to me. Go now, quickly. Just leave one sword for me."

The villagers began the evacuation. Leliana disappeared to get her things. She and Aedan had worked out a plan of defense beforehand, and they knew exactly what they had to do. A passing villager handed Aedan a short sword, which he took with some satisfaction.

"Ser Athos, where did you say those bandits were coming from?"

"This way my lord...but you're not even dressed!"

Aedan began to run. "Not to worry, Athos. I've fought with less in less. Let's kick some arse."

It was a large raiding party, about twenty of them. Some were on horses, the rest on foot. To Aedan's immense relief, none of them carried bows. He raised one fist high, a signal to Leliana, who was lurking somewhere unseen. Then he and Athos dashed to the bridge that spanned the river.

"It's not nearly deep enough," said Athos, looking nervously at the approaching group of bandits.

"Perhaps not, but this is the most easily defensible position. We have to make sure none of them make it to the chantry. Are you with me, ser templar?"

"I am, my lord."

Aedan briefly clasped his hand, then yelled out a warcry and planted his feet firmly on the stone bridge, sword raised above his head. Athos faced in the opposite direction, implacable in his chantry plate.

The first bandit ran up the bridge and swung an axe at Aedan, a blow which he easily dodged. The bastard was so huge he blocked his other two companions behind him, something which he was thankful for. Aedan smashed his fist in a left hook against the man's jaw, then flicked his sword along the bandit's throat, severing the jugular vein. Blood spilled forth and the bandit fell, clutching feebly at his ruined throat. Aedan kicked him hard in the face, leaving the man collapsed in front of him and creating another obstacle for other attackers to climb over.

"Rush the bridge!" roared their leader, reigning in his horse. A second later, an arrow buried itself into his forehead and he pitched backwards out of his saddle.

Hidden in a thicket of tall grass, Leliana grinned malevolently.

"That's my girl!" yelled Aedan, hacking off a hand. Because he wasn't wearing any sort of armour he could not fight as he preferred, shrugging off sword blows while delivering vicious counterattacks. He was forced to fight more like Leliana and Zevran did, quickly, light on their feet, never staying in one spot for long. It was tiring work, but Aedan was quickly warming to his task. He hadn't been in a fight this challenging since the Battle of Denerim.

Behind him Ser Athos was fighting well, if not as spectacularly. He wielded a mace and had crushed a couple of skulls as some of the bandits splashed their way across the river and ran up the opposite side of the bridge. They were making good progress, but there were still fifteen or so thugs to go. Aedan knew Leliana was trying her best to thin their numbers, but she couldn't stay within a good range and remain unseen at the same time.

"Leave them!" bellowed another man on horseback, wearing black plate and wielding an axe. "Get to the chantry!"

To Aedan's shock, the bandits immediately obeyed, ignoring the bridge and leaping over the river, heading for the chantry. The only reason why he and Athos were alive was because the bridge forced their opponents to come at them one at a time. If they left the bridge and tried to stop them from attacking the chantry, they would be surrounded.

"BASKERVILLE!" roared Aedan. "Attack!"

The Mabari hound raced from Leliana's side, jaws snapping, spit flying, and hurled himself into the middle of the group gathered outside the chantry door. Baskerville was huge even for a Mabari hound, who were themselves much bigger than ordinary dogs. He knocked several bandits off their feet and went straight for their throats, snarling horrifically.

"Now! While they're distracted!" Aedan yelled at Athos. He took off towards the chantry himself without looking to see if the templar would follow. Baskerville's charge had momentarily stunned them, but it was only a matter of time before they regrouped and killed his hound.

Leliana had slung her bow and was rushing to back up Aedan, daggers in hand. But they were still terribly outnumbered. And there were still a few men on horseback that hadn't crossed the river.

_This could be tricky, _Aedan thought dispassionately, as he cut down one man from behind. He was immediately surrounded by four others. Ser Athos was still some distance away, struggling to run in his heavy plate. Leliana wouldn't reach him in time. Aedan kept turning, trying to keep all four in his field of vision. But he knew it was hopeless. The instant he turned to met the first charge, the other three would gut him like a fish. From the evil glint in their eyes, the bandits knew it as well.

From out of nowhere, a huge grey hand that looked as though it had been carved from stone enveloped the head of one bandit. Before the man could so much as cry out in terror, the hand applied the slightest bit of pressure. His skull burst instantly in a spray of brain, blood and bone.

"Filthy squishy humans!" spat one of the last active golems in all of Ferelden. "I'll be cleaning that off for days."

Aedan took advantage of the distraction to sink his sword into the stomach of another bandit. His dying scream seemed to have an electrifying effect on the other bandits, who were gawking with slack jaws at the massive, crystal encrusted golem who had suddenly appeared in their midst. They tried to attack, but their blades merely shattered on the golem's rocky hide. Without any apparent effort, the golem drew back a fist and punched another bandit square in the gut. He was knocked off his feet and flung head over heels all the way into the river.

"Shale? What are you doing here?" shouted Aedan, ducking a sword slash and kicking his opponent in the groin.

"I see it is still asking questions to which the answers are patently obvious to all but it. I am saving the Warden's life."

"Not that I don't appreciate the help - ungh! - but how did you know where to find me?"

Shale hammered a stone fist down on the head of another bandit, splattering him. Bits of the bandit flew everywhere.

"I didn't," said Shale nonchalantly. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "They did."

A lithe, slender figure leapt from the roof of the chantry in an impossibly graceful swan dive, rolling as it hit the ground. Zevran Arainai leapt to his feet, simultaneously jabbing at groin, stomach and chest level in movements too fast to see. Where he struck, the men he had targeted found themselves looking at daggers that had inexplicably sprouted from their bodies.

"Blood and death in the face of impossible odds! Just like old times, no?" called out Zevran cheerfully, knocking out another bandit with a backhanded blow.

"Zevran you have no idea how glad I am to see you right now!" Aedan shouted in reply.

"My dear Warden, I had no idea saving your life would make me so irresistible to you. Perhaps I should have done it more back in the day."

"Damn right elf, I saved Cousland's life twice the number of times you have!" bellowed a familiar gravelly voice. Aedan detected the faint smell of ale in the air and punched yet another bandit with renewed hope. Only one individual could fight like an archdemon while still in a state of semi-permanent inebriation.

Oghren waded into the fray, striking out with his battleaxe in all directions. The bandits who didn't lose limbs scrambled madly to get away from him.

"Ah-hah! Run you cowards, run! Baskerville! You mangy mutt, I've missed yer stinking slobber. Run 'em down, boy! Go! Go!"

Baskerville barked loudly and gave chase to the fleeing bandits. Oghren was about the only other person he took orders from, aside from his master. Leliana had theorised Bask regarded Oghren as a sort of fellow puppy to be humoured on occasion.

Shale stomped the last of the bandits underfoot, the horrifying crack of bone putting a finishing touch on the battle. Those few who had survived were putting as much distance between themselves, the village of Lothering and Baskerville's teeth.

The bandit leader whirled his horse around, shaking with impotent rage. He had come to raid what he thought was an easy target, and saw his team utterly destroyed by the most famous warriors in all of Ferelden. He prepared to get the hell out of there.

"Damn you!" he screamed, cutting the air futilely with his axe. "You won't be here forever, I'll be back and burn this hole to the ground!"

Aedan yanked his sword out of the dead bandit's chest. Oghren grunted and hefted his axe. Zevran snatched up a throwing dagger, and Shale bashed her huge hands together menacingly, making a sound not unlike a crack of thunder. But before any of them could take a step, an arrow whistled over their heads and pierced the eye of the bandit leader. He uttered a shriek and fell from his horse, dead before hitting the ground.

"Good thing I had one arrow left," said Leliana calmly, lowering her bow and coming to join them. "I'm pleased to see you again, Zevran, Oghren. Shale, you look very fine indeed. Are those new crystals?"

"I thank the bard for her perceptiveness. Yes, they are new. The bard looks as well as she did when I saw her last in Denerim," Shale said pleasantly. She had always gotten along fairly well with Leliana.

"Which was a long bloody time ago!" cut in Oghren. "How the hell did you avoid us? Well me mostly, knife-ears here couldn't track a fart in a chamber pot."

"I beg to differ, friend Oghren," said Zevran, cleaning the blood off his knife on the shirt of a dead bandit. "You were convinced Leliana was in Orlais. As I recall you insisted we take a ship there a few days ago. Lucky for us we followed my instinct, eh?"

"Yeah well, who knew you'd come back here to Lothering anyway Anna," said Oghren grumpily. "Fortunately Cousland here didn't bother concealing his tracks."

"Wait, wait," said Aedan. "You three were looking for me? Not Leliana?"

"Why would we be looking for the bard?" asked Shale. "No, we were commissioned by the Arl of Redcliffe to look for the Warden. Its presence is vital to the reconstruction effort. Personally I never really understood why. It's not as if it could rebuild a human dwelling half as well as I could."

"Eamon," sighed Aedan. "I should have known." He reached for Leliana's hand without even thinking about it and she slipped her arm into the crook of his. Zevran watched the pair of them, his eyes twinkling.

"Ah, it appears that our two lovebirds have finally settled their little spat. I must confess, I am somewhat disappointed. I was hoping for an opportunity to teach Lord Cousland the Serene Serpent. If you want to make up with a lover in Antiva, the technique is invaluable," he said mischievously.

"I thought all you needed for Antivan women was a great big pile of gold," said Oghren.

"That works for all women."

"What were the two of you fighting over anyhow?" asked Oghren.

"Never mind," muttered Aedan. He quickly changed the subject. "So Eamon wants me to come back? I'm helping Leliana rebuild Lothering. These villagers (ungrateful sheep-shagging bastards that they are) wouldn't last the winter without help."

"The Arl has heard about that," rumbled Shale. "He is prepared to divert additional resources to Lothering in exchange for your return to the capital. He sorely needs your help in organising Ferelden's armies."

"That sounds wonderful," said Leliana. "We've made good progress here Aedan. We should return to Denerim and help out Eamon and Alistair."

"The Arl should not have bothered," remarked Shale. "I fail to see what practical purpose lies in rebuilding this hapless village. It reminds me strongly of accursed Honnleath."

"This place will always be special to me," said Aedan. Ser Athos had informed the villagers in the chantry that the danger had passed, and they filed out of their hiding place, looking on with some awe at the golem, dwarf and elf.

"It was where I first met the love of my life," he said, kissing Leliana on the cheek.

"I don't know which was worse," said Zevran in a would-be secretive tone. "The constant displays of public affection or the time when Aedan went stark raving mad trying to find you, Leliana."

"He did? Oh, you must tell me Zevran!" said Leliana delightedly.

"Now, let's not get carried away..." began Aedan, but he was interrupted by Oghren.

"He was tearing around all of Denerim like a sodding ogre in an alehouse," said the dwarf. "He wouldn't eat or sleep or say anything except 'I MUST FIND HER!' By the Stone, it got annoying after a while."

"Do you remember that time when he lined up every single city guard in Denerim and interrogated them all for information?" added Zevran.

"How could I forget? I could hear him screaming his lungs out - and I was outside the city walls," declared Oghren.

"I seem to recall seeing the Warden curled up on its bed, clutching a withered specimen of Andraste's Grace and sobbing like a child. It was most alarming," boomed Shale in a voice like cannonfire. Some of the onlookers began to laugh. Leliana was smirking.

"Oh no, surely he couldn't have," she said with a gleam in her eye.

"Now wait just a spawnscrewing minute," said Aedan loudly.

"That was not the most pathetic position I found him in," Shale went on blithely. "Perhaps the most amusing was the time - "

"Okay! I'll get my stuff and go back to Denerim. Although with you three clowns here I'm reminded why I left in the first place," said Aedan, throwing up his hands. Leliana caressed the back of his head and kissed him passionately.

"I missed you too, you know," she said quietly. "I cried so hard those first few weeks. Every single day and night."

"I was torn up, Leli. Let's never fight again."

"Are you sure? Because there's only one way of making sure that happens."

"What's that?"

"You accept the fact right now that I am and will forever be right in anything. Even if you're right, you're wrong. _Est-ce que tu peux me comprende_?"

"Oh very well."

"Big mistake, my friend," said Zevran. "Now you will be in chains for life. You should have hooked up with me when you had the chance. First rule of Zevran, there are no rules."

"Swallowed it hook, line and sinker, Warden," sighed Oghren. "Can't believe you fell for that one. Take it from me."

"Shut it you two," groaned Aedan.

Baskerville trotted up towards them, with something clenched in his jaws. Some of the villagers screamed in fright. His fur was covered in blood and he appeared to have torn off the entire arm of a luckless bandit.

"Good boy," said Aedan, ignoring the loud retching sounds that were coming from one farmer. "Did you get all of them?"

Baskerville wagged his tail happily.

"Looks like our work here is done. Let's go home."

**Shift**

"Oh Aedan _mon cherie_...by the Maker...that was utterly perfect," Leliana breathed, brushing her damp hair out of her face.

"Uhhh," said Aedan. He was lying on his stomach, completely spent.

"I mean, it's always perfect, but that was even more perfect than usual. It was perfect in its perfection," she went on, tenderly rubbing his shoulders.

"Uhhh."

"If makeup sex is always this good, then we should fight more often."

"Antivan...Serene...Serpent," murmured Aedan.

"Remind me to thank Zevran."

Aedan sat up and cupped her chin with one hand, gently rubbing her cheek with his thumb. "We need to talk, Leli."

"What about?"

"The consequences of my actions. I need to face up to them. I think it's best if we talk it over. As a couple."

"I have been thinking," whispered Leliana in his ear. "Out there, somewhere, is an innocent baby with unfathomable power, with only a witch to teach and guide him, show him right from wrong."

"I know. That's exactly what I'm talking about," said Aedan. "I'd planned to go away for a while, maybe try to track her down. When I think about the harm she could do...I am frightened, Leli. The kid deserves a normal life. Morrigan has never known a mother's love or kindness, and the baby shouldn't have to suffer like she did."

"And it is your child," said Leliana heavily. Aedan bowed his head.

"Yes, it is. My child. I have a responsibility to him or her. As much as I want to forget about it and leave it all behind, I can't. It would not be right."

Leliana stroked his cheek. "There you go again. Ah Aedan, if more men believed as you do there would be less pain in the world. It's clear what we have to do, then. We must find the witch and save your child from her influence."

"You would do this with me? I hadn't planned on taking anyone with me. Not Zevran, or Oghren, or Wynne. They wouldn't have understood the importance of the matter. Alistair would have listened, but the realm needs him more than I do now."

"You mentioned tracking? Aedan, you are utterly hopeless at it. We tramped around for weeks looking for the Sacred Urn, remember?"

Aedan smiled. He'd forgotten about that.

"You did mention travelling the world at Alistair's coronation."

"Scouring the length and breadth of Thedas to hunt down one woman, who holds a baby with the power of an old god of the Tevinter Imperium? It sounds like a grand tale to me. If only it were just that."

"Tales have to start somewhere."

"So they do. And this one begins with the resolve to find that child and save him from whatever dark future the witch has planned in store for him."

"Does this mean you're coming with me?" asked Aedan, hardly daring to hope.

"I would follow you to the Black City and out again, my love."

"So would I, Leli. So would I."


	6. The Hunt's Almost Over

**Chapter Six - The Hunt's Almost Over**

**Dragon Age 9:31**

**Somewhere near the Frostback Mountains**

Aedan tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. It wasn't working. A wolf howl had jolted him awake, and as it was close to dawn he supposed he should start preparing to break camp.

They had pitched their tent on the edge of a stream. Aedan knelt down and slowly lowered his face into the rushing water. The cold shocked him awake better than any spell could have.He cupped his hands and drank deep, relishing the way the freezing water numbed his mouth.

Aedan looked at the empty tent, frowning. Earlier in the morning he had woken up from a horrific nightmare. It was an old, much-relieved one. He was battling a monstrous ogre at the peak of a great watchtower. The smell of blood and death was in the air as Aedan circled warily, not daring to take his eyes off the behemoth. His new friend and fellow warden Alistair had already been knocked clean out by a swing of the ogre's clawed hand. He lay senseless in a broken heap.

Aedan's left arm was hanging by his side, useless. The ogre had tried to crush his skull, but Aedan barely managed to get his shield up to block it in time. Sensing the end was at hand, it rushed towards Aedan, howling and slobbering.

Without thinking, only moving, Aedan dropped to the floor and slid under the ogre's legs. With desperate strength, he stabbed the Cousland family sword upwards into the ogre's groin and twisted the blade. The rain of blood and the hideous dying shriek of the ogre had been the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.

He had woken up, gasping and sweating. He'd rolled over, wanting to say something to Leliana. But she wasn't there. She had left a note telling him she would be back before dawn, but it was some time before he could get back to sleep again.

Aedan pulled on his underclothes, and then his chainmail. He'd need help to put on his plate armour. He laid his sword across his knees and began scraping a stone across the edge to keep it sharp. He'd learned it from his father, and the ringing sound always reminded him of Bryce.

Someone covered his eyes from behind. In the span of a second Aedan twisted around and bore his attacker to the ground in a tumble of grass.

"Hello," said Leliana, looking up at him. There was a playful sparkle in her green eyes, and she didn't seem surprised that Aedan had an arm across her throat, or that his other hand was on the hilt of his dagger.

Aedan climbed off her, horrified. "Leli! I've told you a hundred times, don't do that any more!"

Leliana laughed merrily, pushing her hair back from her face. "But it's fun. You can sense darkspawn from miles away, but you never hear me sneaking up on you."

Aedan pulled her to her feet. "I know how to swing a blade and ride a charger and command an army. I leave the tracking and woodcraft to the scouts."

"You know, I sometimes forget that you were raised in a castle."

"So were you!"

"Ah, but I actually worked for my keep. Not lounging around all day and sneaking around with the maids at night."

"I was a bit of a brat, yes. But those days are long gone. Where were you this morning?"

"Scouting. Tracking down leads. Hunting for clues about which way to go next. You know, unimportant scout stuff."

"Okay, I get it! I'm sorry," said Aedan, laughing. He knew when he was beaten, and the wicked, gently mocking smile on Leliana's face was the one he knew and loved best. He gave her a kiss.

"You're smiling again," said Aedan, doing the same himself. He thought of the time when they first met, in a dusty ale house in Lothering. He remembered when he had finally laid his soul bare to her, confessed everything about what had happened between him and Morrigan.

Leliana ran a hand through Aedan's hair. "It must be the air. When I'm on the road, out in the wild, I never feel more free than as I do now."

"I prefer hot meals and a roof over my head."

"Always the little lordling. You wouldn't last a day out here without me."

"True enough. Mind helping me put on my armour?"

Leliana sighed in mock exasperation, and nodded her head. It took twenty minutes to put every last bit of metal in place. It was very pretty armour, even if she did say so herself. It was polished silver and infused with lyrium that had been etched in beautiful spiralling patterns that resembled vines and tree branches. It even had a name, the Juggernaut. Aedan had insisted over the loud protests of the others to spend an extra three days in the depths of the Brecilian forest to hunt down every last piece of the armour. He had to kill three Revenants to get it, and by the third one Leliana, Alistair and the rest had seriously considered letting him fight it by himself without help.

He'd been as happy as a child on his nameday when he found the helm, complete with a ridiculous blue plume. Afterwards he'd clanked everywhere in the armour, its brilliant gleam making him a natural target for darkspawn but Aedan claimed to like it that way. Once when Zevran had hidden his armour for a joke he had tied a rope to the elf's ankle and hung him upside down from a tree, with strict orders not to cut him down until the next morning.

"All suited up," said Aedan with some satisfaction. "Where are we headed to next?"

Leliana consulted a detailed cloth map of the region, bought from a trader in the small village they had passed two days ago.

"We've reached the edge of the Frostback mountains. The only path we can take is about an hour's walk in that direction. It winds up into the mountains. Nobody uses it but dwarves and miners, and they pass by very rarely."

"That old woman we talked to was sure that she saw Morrigan pass this way, right?"

"She did seem positive. Of course, she couldn't take her eyes off that sovereign you were dangling in front of her."

"I wasn't dangling it. Besides, she can keep it. I've got plenty more where that one came from."

"Aedan you really are a spoiled rich kid. That sovereign could feed her for half a year."

"Precisely! Doesn't the Chant of Light say something about giving to the less fortunate?"

"_Mon dieu..._Aedan, my sweet, use the brain that the Maker has seen fit to give you but which you do not see fit to actually use. Where is she going to spend it and get proper change? Besides, it makes her a prime target for robbers."

"Oh, I...I never thought about it that way," said Aedan, looking troubled. He rubbed his chin and cast a glance over his shoulder. "Maybe we should go back for it."

"Let's just move on, Lord Cousland. And next time, I'll do the talking," said Leliana, rolling up their tents and sleeping bundles and hoisting them onto Aedan's back.

"Hey, it's heavy! Why do I have to carry all the stuff?"

"I am but a weak Orlesian wallflower, as your mother would have termed it," quipped Leliana. "Whatever happened to chivalry?"

"My mom didn't like Orlesians much. She would have been horrified to hear that we're together," said Aedan jokingly. "Besides, whatever happened to Aveline the First and equal rights for women?"

"Who lost a gold sovereign and probably condemned an old woman to a terrifying and brutal robbery?"

"Maybe I'll just shut up then," muttered Aedan, buckling on his sword and beginning to walk. Leliana followed after him, trying not to laugh.

**Shift**

Aedan shivered, and with each shiver his armour rattled, sending little drifts of snow tumbling off and floating away outside the cave entrance, where it was quickly swept up by the howling wind. He couldn't remember ever having been so cold before in his life. The last time he'd been in this place he could always count on Wynne to make a fire, or to bury his hands deep into the wonderfully warm fur of Baskerville's coat. But both of them were in Denerim, far away from the little cave where he had proposed to hide out the worst of the sudden snowstorm.

Leliana sat beside him, hugging her knees to her chest, completely covered in all the blankets they had brought. She had protested weakly when Aedan made her take every last one, but even with them she still felt cold. She couldn't cuddle up with him because that would mean taking off his armour, and with her fingers so frozen she wasn't sure she could help him get it on again. She had tried for an hour to start a fire, but it was a hopeless cause. Even Aedan's flame-rune enchanted sword couldn't make the wet bits of wood catch fire. For his part Aedan suffered in silence, with only his teeth chattering nine to the dozen.

In his hand Aedan clutched a ring carved out of rosewood, the only thing that Morrigan had ever given him. She had placed it on his finger after that night in Redcliffe, and told him that it symbolized their bond. Leliana hated to even look at it, but Aedan noticed that he could sometimes glean a hazy inkling of thoughts and emotions completely unconnected to his own when he was holding or wearing the ring. He surmised that it was linked to Morrigan, and would be of use in tracking her down. With so little to go on, Leliana had to agree to take it along. Still, she never touched it if she could help it and made Aedan take it off before they made love.

The ring had radiated a faint warmth as they started up the mountain path, which grew a little stronger when they continued to walk it. They had to be getting close. Aedan was also beginning to dream strange dreams again, full of dark, shadowy figures. Sometimes he recognised the awesome silhouette of the archdemon, soaring high above him, jaws wide open as if to emit an ear-shattering shriek. Sometimes he thought he glimpsed a tall, pale woman with dark hair that obscured her face, only her eyes visible in the gloom.

A shriek pierced the air, audible even over the wind. It was so loud that it made Aedan look up, and Leliana peeked out from underneath the blankets. Barely visible in the flurry of snow was a raven, swooping over the tree lines.

The ring in Aedan's hand suddenly put out a lot more heat. It was especially noticeable in the freezing temperatures.

"L-L-L-Le-Leli," chattered Aedan, teeth clicking uncontrollably. "I-I think that's her. The r-ring's glowing a-again."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Didn't w-we talk about this?"

"We did."

They had been travelling around in the wilderness for a long time now. They knew that Morrigan was raised in a forest, and had learned how to take care of herself, but with a child to consider they'd guessed that she would stay no more than a day's journey away from a village where she could get supplies.

The raven screeched once more and disappeared.

"Do you think she saw us?" said Leliana, wrapping the blankets around herself tightly.

"We have to assume that she d-did. I think we're close now. Very c-close."

Leliana looked back at the darkening sky with renewed resolve. "We have to be ready for anything. It's almost time."

**Shift**

Morrigan, the famed witch of the wilds, daughter of Flemeth demon-touched, mistress of spiders and master of the primal magics, veteran of the Battle for Denerim, groaned in frustration as her baby spat out his mouthful of mushy peas and screamed bloody murder.

"Well mother, you said I would rue the day when I had children of my own. No doubt you would be pleased to know you were right," she said, wiping peas from her face. Ever since she had begun living in solitude again she had taken to talking to herself. She also talked to her baby as if he were an adult. She saw no point in mollycoddling the child that might eventually grow up to rule all of Thedas. Besides, she was sure that sometimes he looked as though he understood her.

"Will you stop this infernal defiance? I spent a lot of time getting these vegetables, and like it or not, my boy, you will eat them."

"Don't want!" he yelled, shaking his head violently from side to side.

"You're lucky to be getting real food, you know. My mother once made me eat frogs fresh-caught from the swamps. 'Twas most disturbing, the way they went down your throat."

The child had stopped squalling, and was licking his sticky hands. Morrigan raised an eyebrow.

"So, still hungry after all?"

"Mum-mum. Mama! Mamamamamamama," he babbled without pause. Despite herself, Morrigan began to smile.

She told herself she was doing this for her ideals. Mages should not have to live every waking moment in fear of a demon attack or death at the hands of the templars. The Tevinter Imperium had gone way overboard, especially near the end, but Morrigan had to admit that an empire that was ruled by mages sounded most appealing to her. They had paid homage to gods who hailed from a time before the Chantry, from even before the Maker as she secretly believed. Even if the archdemon wasn't actually a creator god, it was still an entity of unimaginable power. And that was with the taint of the darkspawn poisoning it. There was no limit to what her child could achieve one day.

She had set out with all those lofty goals in her mind. She had a hard childhood, but hundreds of other people had suffered worse. Her mother had thought her how to be strong, and hard so that the world could not hurt her. There was no room for an emotion as insipid as love in her philosophy. Despite the warnings she had let herself love, once, and she had been hurt far worse than anything she'd ever experienced. The fact that her child was living proof of that pain should have made it easier for her to stick to her original plan.

But the baby had changed all that. He had dark hair like her, and her long angular face, but his features strongly resembled his father. He had been born in the same hut where they now lived during a fierce winter storm, and Morrigan had screamed louder than the wind outside had shrieked. He had grown so quickly, learning to crawl and to say a few simple words after just half a year. The first time he had grabbed her finger and laughed with the clear, sweet tone of pure, undiluted joy Morrigan had felt her heart melting all over again.

She loved her son. He could be a handful at times, but he was learning so quickly. She could tell that he was going to be a mage when he grew up, just like her. Out here in the wild he would never have to stunt and choke the growth of his abilities, like he would be in the Circle Tower. Freedom was the best gift she could give her child.

She had named him Mordred, not for a lack of imagination, but she did want to be remembered. If her child fulfilled his destiny his name would echo through the ages, and whenever people spoke of him, they would be reminded just who had taught him everything he knew.

A small rock smeared with dried bloos that she had placed in a corner began to glow red. She had placed a ward on it to light up if certain individuals crossed a certain perimeter around her house. Morrigan set the bowl and spoon aside and went over to check it.

Her ward was indeed working perfectly. Intruders were getting closer to her hut. People that she knew. Morrigan had been out earlier in the form of a huge black raven, the easier to travel to the nearby villages. She thought she caught a glimpse of a couple of travellers seeking shelter from the snow, but she'd put it out of her mind. Now she wished she could have taken a closer look.

She looked at her son, who had quietened down. She found herself saying words that her mother had told her, during what seemed like an age ago.

"The fun is about to start, child."

**Shift**

Aedan was grateful that he had asked Wade the master blacksmith to place a rune of flame on his longsword, Vigilance. It was a beautiful blade, almost effortless to swing and as easy to wield as can be. In Aedan's hands he was capable of dealing three strokes per second, which was more than enough to quickly behead any opponent. But what he liked most about the sword was the way magical fire burst from the blade at a simple mental command. It might have been magical, but it provided light and heat just the same.

Presently he had unsheathed it, and was holding it warily in front of him as they trekked deeper into the snowy forest. The wind blew against their cloaks, snow occasionally dropping down on their heads in wet clumps. Leliana was holding her daggers, not touching her bow for the time being for fear that the string might get wet.

They had prepared for this battle for a long time. They also had prepared for the fact that it would be a battle, and not mere civil conversation. Morrigan had made it clear she did not want to be followed or even thought of after the Battle for Denerim. But now they were coming to take away her child from her. Despite all their reasons and justifications, they were still going to separate a child from its mother.

They had fought alongside Morrigan in battle more times than they could count. They had gasped in awe as she hurled fire and ice, lightning, wind and earth at their enemies with the merest gesture of her fingers. They had hung back in fear as she transformed into gigantic beasts of the forests, ripping apart ranks of darkspawn like so much meat. She had saved their lives again and again with her magic, and they were not looking forward to have all that awesome power turned against them.

They had taken precautions, of course. Although Alistair had never become a full templar he had still undergone the training. He had forgotten more than he had remembered, but one thing he still recalled and was able to pass on to Aedan and the others was the templar ability to dispel spells and enchantments through the application of lyrium potions. Without her vaunted magic, Morrigan was just a woman with a staff. She used it skillfully, to be sure, but she would be no match for Aedan. The trick was surviving long enough to get within that range.

Aedan's nerves were stretched tight as a drawn bowstring with each step he took. He could sense no darkspawn anywhere near, but that meant absolutely nothing. Morrigan would have ensured that her home would be defended by all sorts of nefarious traps.

The crunch of running paws on snow was barely perceptible over the wind, but Leliana had spent far too many nights in the wilds not to be able to recognise it. She shouted a warning to Aedan and clutched her daggers, looking wildly around for the threat. She didn't have long to wait.

With a howl that chilled the bones, a pack of wolves emerged from the thickets and burst into the clearing where the two of them stood. Snarling, spit-flying from their jaws, they raced towards Aedan and Leliana.

With a mighty shout, Aedan made Vigilance burn brighter than it had before, the sudden intensity of the flame making a few of the wolves hesitate. Aedan took advantage of the few extra seconds to sweep his sword in a complicated arc that cut two wolves down in a mess of blood.

At his back Leliana realised at once that her daggers would be almost useless in a fight like this. Dropping one, she kicked a pile of snow at her feet, sending it spraying up and concealing her for a moment. In the next second she lashed out with one foot after the other, her heavy leather boots sending wolves flying away into the darkness. She had half-jokingly argued with Aedan over the big ugly boots that he'd wanted her to wear, but they came in very useful for dealing with situations like this. She rolled nimbly out of the way of another onrushing wolf and buried her second dagger deep within its skull.

Aedan tried to keep up with her, although he certainly couldn't roll in his armour. Confident that he couldn't be harmed, he fought unhurriedly, almost calmly, with a deadly sense of purpose. Every swing of his sword found a target, followed up by a heavy crash from his shield. Aedan was a veteran of a hundred battles, and he knew that wild, hurried strokes tired out an armoured knight extremely quickly. Better to go slowly and steadily, and rack up the kills that way. It was working. Dead wolves fell in a heap around him, their blood staining the snow a deep red.

In the face of such determined opposition, the surviving wolves decided to turn tail and get the hell away. Breathing heavily, Leliana picked up her weapons and tucked them back into her belt. Aedan found a patch of grass to wipe his sword clean. They shared a glance, and without saying a word, they moved on.

The ring on Aedan's finger was glowing brightly now, in contrast to the shadows all around them. They walked in silence for a few minutes more. Then, as if out of nowhere, Morrigan stood before them.

She was wearing a practical, heavy wool-lined black robe instead of the eclectic collection of rags, feathers and strips of leather that he remembered from their time together. In her right hand she grasped her staff, a gnarled length of sylvanwood that Aedan had given her from an ancient, sentient oak tree they had met in the Brecilian forest. Her left hand was clenched in a fist, and a ball of fiery blue energy surrounded it. She snarled in frustration upon seeing Aedan's familiar silver armour and fired a bolt of ice at him. Aedan caught it on his shield, which had been enchanted specifically to resist magic.

"You," she said, and it was a wonder to hear the amount of venom in that single syllable. "I warned you not to come after me. Yet here you are."

"Morrigan, please!" yelled Aedan, not daring to lower his shield. "I don't want to fight you!"

She raised a ball of earth and rock from the ground beneath her and sent it flying towards Aedan, who again blocked it with his shield.

"Did you think I would let you just take him away from me? Last mistake you will ever make, Warden."

She raised her arms above her head, and dark clouds began gathering above them. Despite the air crackling with energy, it was her words that had the greater impact on Aedan.

_Him? I have a son!_

Ridiculous, he knew. But that was all he could think of as he brought his sword up in a battle ready stance. Dimly, he wondered where Leliana was. She had disappeared the instant they saw Morrigan, and the witch didn't appear to have noticed her.

"Morrigan, you can't do this. You can't raise a child out in the wild, the way you were. You told me you hated it! He deserves a normal life!"

"As normal as a man shackled, blinded, deafened and crippled can be, Warden. My son will be the greatest mage this pathetic little world has ever seen. You would send him in chains to the Circle Tower, to slave away under the self-righteous fools of the chantry."

"My son will - "

"HE IS NOT YOUR SON!" screamed Morrigan. "You have no claim to him. You were nothing more than a tool, an object to be used and then left forgotten. He is my child, mine! You gave him up when you chose that red-haired whore over me!"

Thunder boomed, a huge, ominous sound. Aedan remained as still as a mountain, Vigilance burning bright before him.

"I love her," he said simply. Morrigan howled and stabbed her staff at him. The trees behind Aedan began to creak, then move. Roots were yanked out of the ground, branches swung around to bear down upon him.

"Please, Morrigan. For the last time, can't we just talk things over?" said Aedan, blocking a flailing tree branch with his shield and slicing it off with Vigilance.

"There is nothing to say."

"We were friends! I killed Flemeth for you, I did everything I could to help you!" yelled Aedan, hacking away at the animated sylvans.

"You foul liar! You spoke to me of love, and when I let myself believe you turned your head the moment that whore crooked her finger at you. Choice, Warden. All there ever is. You made yours, and you made another by choosing to take my child from me. How the realm would shudder to hear of their hero snatching an infant babe from his mother's side."

"I have a - responsibility - " grunted Aedan, bringing down another sylvan in a flurry of wood and leaves.

"No. You have nothing. You know nothing. You are nothing. Now you will die, Warden. And my son need never know his coward, fool and traitor of a father."

Thunder roared from the sky, again, and a bolt of electricity streaked from the air, headed directly for Aedan's head. But it crashed harmlessly against a faint blue bubble that was thrown up immediately around him. It appeared that Alistair's anti-magic techniques had worked.

Morrigan looked shocked for the span of a second, then bared her teeth in a vicious snarl. "I should have known you wouldn't be above debasing yourself to learn at the foot of the templar fool. No matter. I have other weapons, ones that I never shared with you."

She cast her staff aside and concentrated, feeling the rush as she gathered the magical energies into her very being. Green light played upon the snow and sky, the green of a corpse rotting in the diseased waters of a forgotten swamp.

"Morrigan, no!" shouted Aedan. But it was too late. There was a flash, and a smell like burning smog. And Morrigan of the wilds no longer stood there before him. In her place was a monstrous, bloated giant spider.

It was massive, far bigger than a horse or an ox. The top of its great, furred abdomen scraped the sides of the uppermost branches of the trees surrounding her. Eight legs tipped with foul grey bristles splayed about in all directions. The spider's mandibles gnashed together furiously, unlike any predator Aedan had ever seen. They looked capable of swallowing whole an entire pig.

But apart from its stinking body and deadly pincers, there was one other detail that terrified Aedan most of all. The spider had eight eyes, but they were human, and glowed amber. They were Morrigan's.

Aedan let out a warcry and smashed into the nearest leg with his shield, hoping to knock it off balance. The spider merely scuttled to one side and spat burning venom at him, which Aedan barely dodged. It then lunged towards him, mandibles clicking wildly.

Aedan swept his sword around, aiming for the joints in the giant spider's legs. But something made him hold back. Despite everything that had happened, despite the fact she had taken on the form of a hellish, monstrous arachnid, he couldn't quite bring himself to actually kill Morrigan. He had been the only real friend she ever had. If he had not met Leliana, he might have fallen in love with her instead.

A voice from somewhere in the treetops shook him out of his funk.

"Aedan! Stop screwing about and kill her!" screamed Leliana. She had vanished the instant she sensed Morrigan's presence and swarmed up a tree, the easier to get the drop on her. She had shielded her bow from the snow, waiting for the opportune moment. She hadn't been able to get a clear shot while they were talking, but the gigantic spider made an excellent target. She drew an arrow, nocked it and pulled it to her chin.

"Maker guide my hand," she whispered, and the arrowhead began to blaze with an otherwordly fire. In the next moment she let it fly and the arrow sped away, burying itself in the thick hide of the spider-creature.

It bellowed in pain and looked upwards, frantically trying to discern where the arrow had come from. But the last of the sun had disappeared over the peaks of the Frostbacks, and the only light in the clearing came from Aedan's sword.

Aedan brought Vigilance down with all his strength, and chopped off one of the spider's legs at its lower joint. A thick, yellow pus oozed from the ruined limb. The spider swung around, and knocked him to the ground with its other leg. It leapt on top of him and its huge mandibles scraped over his armour, trying to tear it off. Aedan kicked and struggled, but he was locked in its grasp and Vigilance had been flung from his hand.

Leliana drew arrows and fired with increasing urgency, realising she had run out only when her hand snatched at empty air. The spider ignored her other shots, managing to catch Aedan's arm between its mandibles and began to crush it. Aedan tried to punch its face with his other mailed fist, but his blows were weakening. In another minute it would tear off his armour and eat him alive. Leliana decided not to give the monster that minute.

Grabbing both her daggers, she launched herself from the tree and landed on the spider's back. With a long, harsh scream that she was barely aware of making, she stabbed it again and again, feeling the thick black liquid that served as the creature's blood burn and bubble as it splattered across her drakeskin battledress. She didn't know if she was hurting the monster at all, but she had to do something to make it release Aedan.

Aedan felt the pressure on his arm lessening, and saw the spider flail about, trying to dislodge the red-haired rogue that had leapt onto its back. It emitted ghastly shrieks as it stretched its legs futilely. Leliana clung on. She was stabbing away at the spider with grim determination.

Out of desperation the spider smashed itself against a tree. Leliana lost her grip and was flung from its back, crashing against a rock. She didn't move, and Aedan's heart leapt into his mouth.

Snatching up his sword, Aedan roared in pain and fear and hacked away at the spider's legs, feeling the hide and flesh tear and give way beneath his blade. Vigilance burned hotter than ever, cauterizing the wounds almost as soon as the blood began to flow. The horrific smell of burnt blood and hair filled the air. Aedan chopped off two legs, then three, then another. The spider was in a frenzy, whirling about, trying to bring its mandibles to bear against Aedan, but he always remained a step out of reach. He raised his sword for the killing slash, aimed right at the gargantuan sphere that served as the spider's head.

A cloud of black smoke obscured his vision, and there was another flash. When it had cleared the spider had disappeared, leaving a bloody and cowed Morrigan lying in the dirt. She was covered in blood and bile and all her limbs looked broken.

"Kill me," she mumbled, through a mouthful of blood and broken teeth. "I don't want to live if you take my son from me. Kill me and be done, Aedan," she said, spitting out the last word.

Vigilance hovered in the air for a moment. Aedan looked down on Morrigan, feeling utterly miserable. Morrigan had trusted him where she had trusted none before. She had taught him so many things, spoke to him of a future where people like her would be welcomed, not trusted. If she hadn't disappeared, Aedan would have helped her fight for that future.

Morrigan stared up at him with one brilliant amber eye, the other closed by a huge welt. Aedan thought he saw a lot of things in that gaze, regret, sorrow, loss and pain.

He still could not do it. The cruel irony, Aedan of Highever, dealer of death to entire armies, could not kill someone whom he had considered a friend.

There was another puff of smoke, and Morrigan disappeared once more. Aedan thought he saw the silhouette of a hound disappearing into the darkness. Then he remembered Leliana.

He rushed over to her side, and placed two fingers on the side of her neck. Her pulse was weak, but it was there. He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding and silently thanked the Maker that she was alive.

Snow began to fall, harder than it had before. Morrigan's hut could be anywhere, and without Leliana he hadn't had a hope in hell of finding it. But if he did nothing, they would both freeze to death.

Aedan fumbled at the straps and links of his armour, intending to keep Leliana warm with his own body heat. But his frozen and wounded fingers simply wouldn't respond.

In desperation he picked up Vigilance and struck the edges of the armour, feeling the blade bite deep in the weak spots only he knew about. His Juggernaut plate was made of enchanted, ancient silverite, but it was no match for Master Wade's volcanic aurum masterpiece. He knew it would destroy the armour forever, but he didn't care. Leliana's life hung in the balance.

Finally, the pieces of his ruined Juggernaut plate fell off him, along with drops of blood where he had been too clumsy with the cuts. Aedan tore off his mail. Jamming Vigilance hilt first into the ground, he willed the blade to put out more flame than it ever had before. It would very likely use up the last bit of magic from the Grandmaster Flame rune, but it was a price he was more than willing to pay. Aedan got down beside Leliana and flung every single blanket and piece of cloth he had over themselves, praying that it would work.

When Leliana came to her senses, the first thing she noticed was that she felt uncomfortably warm, a sensation she was unfamiliar with ever since she stepped foot into the Frostbacks. She turned her head and saw Aedan watching her anxiously. He hadn't cleaned himself up after the battle and looked like hell. When he saw that she was awake, Aedan's face broke into the kind of joyous smile she remembered seeing from the first time they met. They kissed, hard. Leliana pushed a couple of blankets away and tried to sit up.

"Don't move too much honey, you might have broken something," said Aedan, checking over her.

Leliana shook her head and slowly got to her feet. Apart from a few cuts and bruises, she was fine. She saw the pieces of his armour lying in a sorry looking heap, and his sword lying flat in the snow, having burnt itself out.

"Oh, you didn't...it's ruined, Aedan. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. You were freezing, I had to warm you up. It's just bits of metal after all. What's my plate and sword compared to you?"

"You're hurt," said Leliana, trying to bandage Aedan's wounds and other cuts where he had hurt himself. But there were too many. Aedan shook his head, wincing in pain. "Forget about it. I've dealt with worse."

"What happened to the witch?" she asked.

"I was about to kill her, then she disappeared," said Aedan truthfully, if not honestly.

"Hmph. That's too bad. Next time I'll pack more arrows," said Leliana, slinging her bow and quiver onto her back once more. "But I suspect that's the last we'll see of her for a while."

They spent the next half hour looking around for Morrigan's home. It was a small hut, beside a little stream. It was made of wood and thatched straw and Morrigan could have easily built it herself, even if she didn't use magic. After checking to make sure there weren't any harmful spells in the area, they went inside.

It was as bare and spartan as Aedan remembered Flemeth's hut being. A pot hung over an empty fireplace. There was a table with a chair, and a large piece of wood covered with a blanket in the corner. Morrigan's books and other tools were stacked neatly in another corner. But Leliana only had eyes for one thing, sleeping soundly in a makeshift cot by the open window.

The child was swaddled in a simple piece of cloth and looked about twelve months old. He lay on his stomach, thumb in his mouth, his cheeks pink with the look that very young children get when they are sleeping. His dark hair lay in messy streaks across his face. Aedan felt his heart stop as he looked at the slumbering child. It was unmistakably his son, he had the same eyes, nose, everything. Only the shape of his face recalled his mother in looks.

Leliana stroked the child's hair very gently. She had thought about this moment for a long time, almost every night of the entire year they had spent looking for him. She thought that she would hate it because of everything it represented. Aedan's weakness. The witch's triumph. This misguided talk of an elder god, a power that defied the Maker. It was an abomination, something to be eliminated without a second thought.

The child did not look like an abomination, or anything sinister at all. He looked like any other innocently sleeping baby. She had seen hundreds of children, but Leliana had never seen anything so beautiful in her life.

"Leli," breathed Aedan. "That's him. That's my son." He didn't know what else to say. Stating the obvious seemed to suffice for the moment.

"He's gorgeous," whispered Leliana. She took his tiny hand in hers, marvelling at his perfect little fingers. The baby opened his eyes slowly, blinking sleepily. He did not react like any young child would normally have done upon waking up to see strangers staring at him. He looked back at the both of them curiously without making a sound.

Leliana began to smile. He was just adorable. The child gripped her finger and studied it intensely. His smooth little hand felt warm to the touch.

"I need to bring him back. I need to raise him right, the way my parents raised me. Every child deserves a father," said Aedan, sitting down on the chair and watching Leliana play with the child.

"He will need a mother too," said Leliana firmly, continuing to stroke the baby's fine, soft hair.

"I know. I have just the woman in mind. Red hair, great shot with a bow, loves to sing. All the damn time, I have to add. Hot as all hell."

"My Lord Cousland, is this a proposal of holy matrimony? It leaves much to be desired."

"Do you really want me to ask now? In a witch's hut in the middle of a snowstorm, covered in blood and Maker knows what else, and in the presence of my new found son?"

"Yes. I've been waiting for a long time."

Aedan went over to Leliana's side and put an arm around her waist. He kissed the side of her head and looked into her eyes.

"Leliana, my light and love. You're my best friend, the person I want to see every morning, and go to bed with every night. I want to spend the rest of my life by your side. I love you. Marry me."

"Oh Aedan, that was beautiful. Of course I'll marry you."

"I do have this ring..."

"If you give me the ring that witch gave you I am going to kill you. You can get me the biggest diamond ring in all of Ferelden when we get back to Denerim."

"Something small and tasteful. Got it."

They watched the baby let go of Leliana's hand and turn his attention to Aedan. He looked into those big, dark eyes for the first time and something in him changed. He was a father now. He had a son, and he was about to marry the woman he loved. At long last he had finally found what he wanted after enduring untold horror, pain and strife. A family to call his own.

"What should we call him?"

Leliana looked thoughtful. "When I was a little girl, my mother would tell me tales of a mighty knight errant who was on an eternal quest to find a grand and dark tower. His deeds were so noble, so brave. He gathered a band of loyal friends, was kind to those in need and terrible to his enemies. You've always reminded me a little of that knight."

"You know, I think I've heard this one too. Master Aldous, the man who taught me when I was a boy, was fond of telling the story."

"Really? You never told me."

"You never asked."

"I think it fits him very well."

"So do I. Hi there, little guy. I'm your daddy. Welcome to the world, Rolann."


	7. Child Rolann to the Circle Tower Came

**Chapter Seven - Child Rolann To The Circle Tower Came**

**Dragon Age 9:55**

**The bedchambers of the Teyrn, Castle Cousland**

Aedan stopped talking. The fire in the fireplace had burned low, and its dying light painted the room a dark red. The faint noise from the throne room had died away. He supposed the feast had finally stopped.

Darien was still in his armchair, looking dumbstruck. He had the most skeptical expression on his face when Aedan began speaking, but that had given way to a look of complete amazement. Aeryn had been standing, her arms folded, her lips set in a moody pout. Now that Aedan had finished her eyes were wide with disbelief.

But it was Rolann who looked the most affected by his father's revelations. His cool facade was gone, replaced by utter shock. He had run his hands through his long hair several times during Aedan's story, looking as though he was on the brink of madness. When Aedan had gotten the last part out, that he was the baby his parents had set out to find all those years ago, he took a step backwards.

"No," he said, as if mere denial could make his father's words untrue."No, this can't be. This is crazy! What are you saying, that I'm some sort of demon child?"

Aedan nodded slowly. Rolann picked compulsively at a stray thread on his robe.

"And mother...this just can't be true. You're my mother! Not some witch woman. Why are you saying this?"

"You wanted the truth, Rolann. I did warn you. Few men like the truth," reminded Aedan.

Rolann didn't reply to that. He looked at the woman whom he had thought was his mother, his eyes full of hurt.

Leliana laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this, Rolann. We wanted to protect you. I loved you the moment I saw you, all those years ago. That hasn't changed. You will always be my son."

Rolann gulped. He started to say something, but lapsed into silence. He took Leliana's hand and held on to it. Aeryn decided to break the sudden hush.

"I'm not sure I get it, father. Why can't Rolann join the Grey Wardens, no matter who his real mother - "

"Birth mother," interjected Leliana quietly, but firmly.

"Sorry...who his birth mother was?"

"If the Warden Commander knew what I was telling you three tonight, he'd have my head Lord of Highever or no," said Aedan, mostly to himself. "You know about the Joining Ritual that every new recruit has to go through. Well it's not some damnfool ceremony like staying up in a chantry all night praying to the Maker. It's really quite simple - you have to drink from a goblet containing a mixture of archdemon blood and lyrium."

Darien made a gagging noise. When everyone turned to look at him, his face went as red as his hair.

"Sorry, it just sounds disgusting."

"You cannot imagine. I'm not talking about the taste, it is an assault on the body, spirit and mind. Some people just die straight away after downing it. Generations of Warden scholars can't determine what kind of person is best suited to survive it. It doesn't seem to matter, I've seen young, healthy men and women as strong as a Qunari drop dead after choking it down. Then again I've seen old, worn out warriors drink the whole thing in one go and ask for more." The corners of Aedan's mouth twitched. "Oghren, that great big oaf."

"That's one of the reasons why I don't want Rolann to join. He has so much talent and skill, it would be a ridiculous waste if he dies in the Joining Ritual. But there is another. Now you know who Rolann really is, I cannot let him have any contact with archdemon blood or the darkspawn taint. You are supposed to possess the power of an old god of the Tevinter Imperium, son. If you go through the Joining Ritual, you could turn into the next archdemon. Or worse."

Rolann's mind was in a whirl. He said he wanted the truth, but too late he saw the wisdom of his father's words. It was his fault, he forced the issue by deciding the join the Wardens, and demanding to know the truth.

"Don't you see, Rolann? I'd never want this for you, even if not for your...condition. A Warden has to sacrifice everything he has when he signs up. Even if he does survive the Joining, he spends his days in battle and nights in torment, and is expected to destroy himself to stop a Blight. And even if he survives all that, as I did, he has less than thirty years to live the moment he takes that first sip. That's why I must go to Orzammar and leave all of you. If I do not fall in battle, the taint in my blood will eventually break through and I will become an abomination, and one of you might have to put down your old man like a rabid dog."

"Dad," breathed Darien. "We never guessed, never even thought...all of us always thought you were proud of being a Warden."

Aedan pounded his palm with a fist. "My hand was forced, son. The Wardens might be heroes, but they deal in lies and deceit. They have their reasons, but it still seems despicable to me, even after all this time. Just about the only good thing I'm grateful to the Wardens for was that it let me meet your mother. That, and saving the country, I guess."

"So that's why you had to go to Orzammar. I didn't know, father," said Aeryn. "I was so angry at you for wanting to leave us. I'm...I'm sorry."

Aedan hugged his daughter. "You have nothing to apologise for, sweetheart. You three are the best children a man could hope for. It hurts me more than you can imagine to leave you and your mother. But my fate was set all those years ago, and I do not complain. I've had the better part of thirty years of peace with my family. Most people don't even have that."

He turned to his son. "Rolann, can you ever forgive me for not being honest with you?"

Rolann hesitated. He'd always thought the Wardens were a noble order of heroes, dedicated to preserving the best of Ferelden. There was also another reason why he'd resolved to join. Deep down, he wanted to impress his father by joining the order that he thought Aedan was so proud of. He understood now that this was not the case. He was was beginning to see the flaws below the surface, the cracks in the glossy sheen that was the legend of the order.

"Father, this is a lot to take in. About mother, about my plans for the future. Then I find out I'm not even human..." his voice trailed away.

Without a word, Aeryn deliberately stood beside him and squeezed his hand. Darien socked him in the arm and grinned.

"I don't care what happened. Mother's right, you'll always be my brother," said Aeryn.

"It's not as though dad said something I didn't know all along - I always suspected you were an evil menace, Rolann. This just confirms it," Darien said jokingly. Rolann's expression lightened.

"You see, son? What is it I always say? That - "

"Children nowadays don't have respect for their elders and betters?" chimed in Darien.

"King Alistair listens too much to his wife?" ventured Aeryn.

"The money I spend on shoes could feed all of Thedas for a year?" added Leliana.

Rolann had to laugh at the look of exasperation on Aedan's face.

"Maker save me from fools and comedians," swore Aedan, looking skywards. "No, I meant that no man can be judged by his birth, but only by his deeds. You are human, Rolann. You are my son and your mother's son and we love you. We've long known you have tremendous magical ability. All that's changed is what you'll decide to do with it. Highever needs a strong Teyrn, my boy. It needs you."

"I understand. I won't join the Wardens. Highever needs to get used to having me around."

"Thank you, Rolann. Now I can go to the Deep Roads in peace," said Aedan. "You'd best get back to your rooms, children. Tomorrow we set out for Denerim, and then Orzammar."

Bidding their parents goodbye, Rolann, Aeryn and Darien left their parents' bedchamber.

Aedan threw himself onto the bed, staring thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "I wasn't sure how they'd take the news. Worked out best all round, I feel."

Leliana sat down next to him and lovingly brushed his hair from his face. "I agree. I'm so proud of them, dear."

"So am I, Leli," he said. "I suppose I should say goodbye to this place. It'll be the last night I'll ever spend here."

Leliana shrugged off her robe and lay back on the bed, looking mysterious and alluring by the dim glow of the firelight. She beckoned to Aedan. "Then let's make it a night to remember."

**Shift**

"Goodnight, you two," said Rolann outside of his chamber door.

"Night," called Darien, already walking away.

"Goodnight Rolann," said Aeryn, giving him a last affectionate pat on the arm.

Rolann went in. He dunked his face in a basin of cold water, and then dressed for sleep. He had been given the room he had as a boy. His parents had kept it just the way he left it, the only changes being the ones Rolann had decided to make himself. It was tidy and neatly organised, with his shelves of books and the large worktable where he occasionally messed around with magical experiments still there. The view outside his window was a scenic one of the castle courtyard. When he was younger Rolann used to spend hours just watching the people going in and out of the castle, or the knights and soldiers at their drills. Now it was dark and quiet, with not a soul stirring.

He couldn't sleep. No one could, not after the revelation that he'd just learned. The woman he'd always thought of as being his mother hadn't given birth to him. His real mother was the infamous Morrigan, one of the fabled band of heroes whom his father had gathered to battle the Blight, but the one who was the least talked about. He could still remember a certain reluctance on the part of his father to discuss her in particular when he was telling all of them stories about his past adventures. His mother hadn't liked even the very mention of her name, he recalled. Now he knew why.

Rolann stood with his arms on his windowsill, turning things over in his mind. Leliana had raised him as her own, and even now she still thought of him as her son. Even Aeryn and Darien, whom he supposed were now his half-sister and brother, were adamant that it didn't change a thing. He was thankful beyond words for their acceptance.

Still, he found himself thinking more and more about Morrigan. Logically, he knew it was only to be expected. Most adopted children were curious about who their birth parents were. He knew very little about her. The tales didn't mention her much, songs and stories about his father and his companions had little to say about Morrigan or left her out completely. He went over what he knew. She was a mage who grew up in the Korcari Wilds free of Circle Tower supervision. She had great magical powers. And she apparently had imbued his soul with the power of an old god. Rolann resolved to find out all that he could about Morrigan and the Tevinter Imperium.

He wasn't sure if he could find the time, now being expected to run Highever. Briefly he wondered what the First Enchanter and the rest of the Senior Council would have to say about these developments. Nothing good, he suspected. Let alone the new Knight-Commander of the Templars, now that was one person Rolann wouldn't mind telling personally just to see the expression on his face. He wasn't a patch on old Greagoir.

All of a sudden, an old memory came back to him. It had been the source of much confusion throughout his young life, but his father may have just shed some light upon it.

**Dragon Age 9:43**

**Circle Tower of the Magi, Lake Calenhad**

"Do you realise the importance of what you're doing, child?" sniffed the templar escorting Rolann. "You're the youngest person to ever attempt the Harrowing Ritual in thousands of years."

"I'm not a child, ser, I'll be thirteen next month," said Rolann. He was finding it difficult to keep up with the templar's long strides. He was wearing a simple black robe and clutching his acolyte's staff, made from veridium and a gift from his parents. It was far superior to those of his classmates.

"Nevertheless, this seems madness to me. Men thrice your age have failed the Harrowing. The risks are a man's to take, not a boy's. Fail, succumb to demon possession, and we will kill you. There will be no mercy shown. Hard to believe your lord father agreed to this, Cousland hardly seems the rash type."

"He...does not know," muttered Rolann, growing tired of the templar's remarks. "I did not wish to worry him unnecessarily."

"Oho, now the picture becomes clearer," said the templar, beginning to climb the staircase that led to the Harrowing Chamber. "No doubt Cousland would be riding at all speed with an army at his back to the Circle Tower had he known. Best you don't die today boy, I'd not want to have to kill your father."

"My father is the Teyrn of Highever," said Rolann. He usually hated bringing up his noble blood, but the templar was going out of his way to be aggravating. "And you wouldn't stand a chance against him in a fight."

The templar idly reached out and smacked Rolann on the back of his head. His fist was mailed, and it hurt. "Watch your tongue, boy. Your lord father isn't here. And while he might have been a dragonslayer and whatnot, that was some years ago. I'd fancy my chances against him now. But enough of this fool talk."

The templar pushed open the chamber doors and went inside. Rubbing the back of his head, Rolann followed him. The chamber had been prepared for the ritual, an ominous stone table was set in the centre of the room. Rolann had always wondered why they used it, surely a bed would be more comfortable. He supposed it looked more impressive.

The templar knelt on one knee before the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander. After a pointed look, Rolann did the same. "Hail, lords. I bring before you Rolann Cousland, who will attempt the Joining Ritual this very day."

"Rise, Ser Tamlen," commanded the Knight-Commander Greagoir. He was a towering bear of a man, clad in white-and-silver plate that a man half his age might have found heavy. His hair was completely grey and his face was a mass of wrinkles, yet no one doubted the strength of his arm or the sharpness of his mind. Rolann knew that his father once had some argument with the man, but he didn't know much about it. All he knew was that Greagoir was a terrifying, constant presence in the lives of the mages at the Circle Tower. There were rumours abound about what he did with apostate mages. Dagna, his best friend at the Tower, once swore that Greagoir ate the flesh of a rogue blood mage that had been captured and tortured. The dwarf girl was fond of making up stories, Rolann decided later. Still, he would rather kick a Qunari in the crotch than to incur the wrath of Greagoir.

Greagoir focused on Rolann. Despite himself, he felt his knee beginning to tremble just a little. "And here is the boy at last. Think you're ready for the Harrowing, do you?"

"I am ready, ser," said Rolann. It was an effort to meet and hold Greagoir's gaze.

"Let me make one thing clear, boy. I'm letting you go through with this because the First Enchanter seems to think you're ready. Not because of who you are or who your father is. In fact, I don't give an ogre's arse about Teyrn Cousland. If you fail, we will kill you. No one is above the law."

"Please, Greagoir. Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be," said First Enchanter Cicero. She was an elegant, regal lady, wearing robes of midnight blue and holding a silver staff. Cicero had been a close friend of Wynne, the mage who had accompanied his father and King Alistair on their quest to defeat the Blight. Wynne was long gone, but she had recommended Cicero to the top position. Refined in manners and speech, and extremely skilled in spirit magic, Cicero had proven a worthy successor to Irving, the First Enchanter before her. She did not, however, share the friendly relationship he had cultivated with Knight-Commander Greagoir, and as such the two were on cool, if cordial terms.

She motioned for Rolann to rise and he did so. "Rolann, I let you undergo the Harrowing with some reservations. It is a difficult experience, and some do not survive. I don't want your father blaming me if you fail."

"I won't, please tell him it was my decision," began Rolann, but Cicero continued speaking.

"Ultimately, it was not your decision at all. It was mine. You are one of the brightest students this tower has ever seen, and certainly the most talented I have had the pleasure of teaching. You're capable of doing things full mages can't. You've mastered the basics of the four schools in a remarkable span of time. You've even understood the psychology needed to deal with Fade demons. So many forget that it is the mind that is our biggest weapon against them."

Rolann waited, nervous. Was she saying all this only to deny him later?

"In short, Rolann, there is nothing more we can teach you to prepare yourself further for the Harrowing. Even if we waited another ten years, all you'd be doing is the same old things you've been studying until now. I don't want you to waste your time, and there is a lot of good you can do as a full mage. I wouldn't have let you do this unless I felt you were completely ready for it. I sent a letter to your father, and he understands."

"He agreed?" said Rolann, in some shock.

"Yes, he did. He wasn't particularly happy about it, but I think I managed to convince him there's simply nothing else you can do in the meantime. Your progress has been that fast. He has great faith that you will succeed, as do I."

Something like a flame lit up within Rolann's chest. His father had actually agreed! He'd never seemed all that impressed with his excellent performance in his studies before, but the First Enchanter herself had told him the Teyrn was confident about his chances. He felt ready for anything, and risked a scornful glance at Ser Tamlen.

"Be that as it may, there is the matter of the ritual," cut in Greagoir. "The details are simple. A demon has been summoned to the part of the Fade where you will travel shortly. It has been told there is a live body waiting for it, and will attempt to possess you. Your task is to resist its advances, either by defeating it in combat, or outwitting it, or tickling it to death for all I care. Just know that if you fail, we will know about it immediately and Tamlen here chops off your head."

Ser Tamlen grinned malevolently, hand on the hilt of his sword. Rolann's lip curled in disgust. Of all the horrors that entailed failing the Harrowing, the worst thing about it would be getting killed by Tamlen.

"I understand," said Rolann.

"You'd better. When you touch this font of lyrium, you will travel to the Fade and we will lay your body down on this stone table in the time being. May the Maker watch over you," said Greagoir. He had spoken bluntly, but Rolann sensed that his blessing was genuine.

"And you, my lord," he said, getting ready to touch the lyrium. It was glowing blue in a little brazier next to the stone table.

Greagoir snorted. "It ain't me he needs to look out for, at least not now. But thank you. Now get on with it."

Cicero nodded to him, looking proud. "Best of luck, Rolann. I'm sure you won't let us down."

Ser Tamlen said nothing.

Rolann took a deep breath, and touched his finger to the lyrium. In the next instant, he found himself in another world.

Rolann had been speculating for several months about what the Fade would look like. He'd read all he could find on the subject. He'd talk to the mages who were willing to humour him about the ritual. Nothing prepared him for what he saw.

He stood on a vast, open plain, ringed with mountains that were so far away, but still looked huge. Beneath his feet grew a grass of some sort, tinged in colours that were a lurid mix of yellow and purple. Above him, dark clouds boiled and rolled. There was a smell all about, an off-putting scent of the air in old and locked rooms. He was wearing the same robes he had on, and was still holding his staff, which had apparently come along for the ride.

Rolann looked around warily, trying to recall everything he had studied about demons. They could be formidable opponents, but they were not invincible. He had decided to rain down fire and ice upon its head the moment he saw it. It was inelegant, but he wasn't about to risk possession and death for the sake of trying to talk the demon out of its mission. Some mages swore up and down that was how they dealt with the demon, and were much admired for it, but Rolann wasn't about to take that chance.

Something stirred in the corner of his eye, and Rolann turned around to face it. It was a young man dressed in the robes of a mage of the Circle Tower. He had brown hair and a cheerful expression, which was at odds with the surroundings.

"Hello there. Another one come to take the Harrowing? Maker's breath, you're just a little boy!"

"Stay back!" yelled Rolann, brandishing his staff. "Don't come any closer!"

"Are you this suspicious all the time? My name is Mouse. Can't remember my real name, it's been so long since I used it. I was once a mage taking the Harrowing just like you, but I took a little too long and the templars killed my body. Didn't die though, my spirit wound up here," said the young man airily, although Rolann detected a note of untruth in his tone. It sounded like the spiel of a man who has told the same story hundreds of times.

"In fact, maybe I can help you with the - with the - " the man trailed off, frowning at Rolann. Then all of a sudden he threw up his hands and took a step back, looking horrified.

"You!" he said.

Rolann was beginning to feel a little freaked out. This wasn't going as planned. He decided to start hurling fireballs straight away.

"No, stay your hand!" cried the man. He had sunk to his knees before Rolann. Bit by bit, the guise of the young mage that the spirit had used was fading away. In a few moments it had disappeared completely, replaced by a gigantic, monstrous horror with a fanged reptilian mouth, spiked hide and cruel black eyes. Rolann backed away hurriedly, trying to cast a shielding spell before the demon could attack him. But to his abject surprise, the Pride Demon remained on its knees before him, arms raised in a gesture of worship and platitude.

"You have returned. But pure, undamaged. You are the one."

"What one, what the hell are you talking about?" said Rolann, utterly mystified at the turn of events. Behind the demon, shadows were forming and taking shape in the form of more creatures of the Fade. Some were demons that he recognised. Some were valiant, benevolent spirits, shining brightly and dressed in spirit armour. Still others were nightmares that hurt his brain just to look at them. They kept appearing, until the huge empty plain was totally covered with spirits. They looked like a sea of monsters to Rolann. What in the Maker's name was going on? Greagoir had said only one demon would be summoned!

But what really frightened him, far worse than the looks of some of those demons, was the way they were kneeling before him.

"Hail Mordred, Urthemiel rekindled," intoned the Pride demon solemnly, in a voice that sounded like rocks clattering down a mineshaft. The other spirits behind him repeated his words, until it sounded like the very mountains were shaking with the sound of their voices.

"Mordred? What are you talking about? My name is Rolann!"

"Hail Mordred, Urthemiel reborn," growled the Pride demon, as if Rolann hadn't spoken. The spirits once again took up the chant.

"I don't understand any of this," said Rolann. "You've got the wrong guy."

"Hail Mordred, Urthemiel returned!" roared the Pride demon, and there was a note of finality about his proclamation. He waited until the last of the voices had died away. Rolann watched him warily, staff still held up.

"It is not my place to challenge the likes of you, Urthemiel," declared the Pride demon. "You will leave us now, and return to the world of man in peace. But take heed. We will be watching. We will always be watching."

"That's it?" Rolann asked, hardly daring to believe it. Then he was rocketed off the ground, soaring upwards, higher and higher, the wind rushing through his hair, until it felt like he was going to fly forever...

Rolann opened his eyes. Dimly, he was aware of an argument taking place.

"...it is not a hopeless cause, Greagoir! If you only knew how skilled the boy is, you would share my confidence. Letting him take the ritual isn't sending him off to die!" said Cicero heatedly. Rolann couldn't quite remember the last time she raised her voice.

"It's tantamount to murder, and you bloody well know it! He's just a ****ing kid, Cicero, and I don't care if his own father is willing to let him die, he shouldn't do it until he's older!" raged Greagoir. His face had turned a beet-red.

"The Circle is desperate for good mages, Greagoir, in no small part to your band of thugs slaughtering them like animals at the drop of a hat! Far too many good men and women have died, and when I think of all the children who have been killed out of fear and ignorance, I grow sick. Rolann can be a symbol, he can show the people they have nothing to fear from mages, if a boy as young as he is can master himself. He could be the start of something new, you close-minded fool!" shot back Cicero, close to screaming now. Rolann shook his head, and swung his legs off the bed.

"Uh, Commander," said Tamlen, eyes wide. They took no notice.

"Can't you see beyond your own ambitions, Cicero? You're willing to sacrifice a young boy for your ideals? Maker's balls, he's hardly older than my own grandson!"

"First Enchanter..." said Tamlen desperately. Rolann grinned, sensing his discomfort. He wasn't about to make things easier for the templar.

"This is not about me, Greagoir, this is about him! When he succeeds this boy will light the way for generations of mages to come!"

"Excuse me, my lord!"

"What the hell is it, Tamlen?" roared Greagoir, swivelling around. He saw Rolann sitting up, alive and unharmed, and his jaw snapped open in shock.

"You...you...you," he stammered, unable to get another word out. First Enchanter Cicero had dropped her staff.

"I think I'm done with the Harrowing," said Rolann breezily. "Is it over now?"

"You're finished?"

"Yes, ser. How long has it been, if I may ask?"

"You've only been out for fifteen minutes," said Tamlen weakly. "That's never - I've never even _seen_ - "

Cicero hurried over to his side, her eyes alight with a fierce joy. "Rolann! I can't believe it, are you all right? How are you feeling?"

"Fine," said Rolann.

"Tamlen, get that bunch of fools in here now!" bellowed Greagoir. Tamlen disappeared in a flash. The Knight-Commander refused to look at Rolann, instead pacing the room and muttering to himself. After a few minutes, a group of confused mages were ushered into the Harrowing chamber. Greagoir turned on them like the wrath of the Maker.

"You incompetent morons! Did you summon the demon like you were instructed?"

"Of course we did, just like usual," said one of the mages. Then he noticed Rolann was awake.

"Hey," Rolann said, and gave a little wave. The mage dropped his staff.

"Seems to be a problem today," commented Cicero, smiling to herself. Greagoir was not in the mood for jests, however.

"Then explain how this boy was done with the ritual in fifteen minutes!"

"Fifteen?" said all the mages at the same time. "But surely - I mean, we did everything right - "

"Well Greagoir," said Cicero. "Can't we finish this? Rolann could not have awakened on his own if he had not defeated the demon. You know this as well as I do."

"There will be an investigation, I promise you," growled Greagoir, his moustache bristling. He looked at Rolann, who had gotten off the stone table.

"Well lad, it seems I was...wrong...about you. Congratulations," he said gruffly. Ser Tamlen looked as though he had been struck by a thunderbolt.

"Thank you, my lord," said Rolann politely, starting towards the chamber door. "Sorry you couldn't chop off my head today, Ser Tamlen. Perhaps another time."

The look on Tamlen's face would make his entire month. He couldn't wait to get back to his room and tell all his friends about it.

"So Rolann," said First Enchanter Cicero, walking beside him. What happened during the Harrowing?"

Rolann waited a little too long before replying. Although he was still a boy, he'd realised almost immediately that the true story of what had happened would not be one most people would appreciate. He decided to keep it secret, at least for now.

"Well, you see..."

**Castle Cousland**

"I do see," said Rolann, feeling the wind on his face, tossing his hair about. "I see now."

That was why the demon had reacted so strangely in the Fade, all those years ago. That was why he'd never had to be wary of a demon attack while he slept, something all other mages were on guard for. They were too frightened to even try.

He'd found out what the name Urthemiel meant after a little research. It was the name of the archdemon that his father had slain, the Dragon of Beauty, an old god of the Tevinter Imperium. He'd long wondered what the connection was between the archdemon and himself. After his father's confession, he finally understood.

"What was it that the demon had called me?" mused Rolann. It had become quite cold in his bedchamber. The moon had risen, and it was a beautifully clear night. He could see stars all across the night sky.

"Mordred. He had called me Mordred," he went on, remembering. There could be only one explanation. The names were too similar to be mere coincidence.

"I should have guessed it from the start. She must have told them somehow. Morrigan."

Rolann shut the window and sat down on his bed. In the darkness, behind his thick stone walls, no one could hear him.

"My name is Mordred."


	8. On the Rocky Road to Denerim

**Chapter Eight - On The Rocky Road To Denerim**

**Dragon Age 9:55**

**North Road from Highever to Denerim**

Darien loved travelling across Ferelden in the summer months. The smell of the air, the sun shining down on his face, the way the fields looked so impossibly green, like something out of a painting. When he was younger Leliana had loved to take him and Aeryn out for long walks all over Highever lands. She had stayed close to their guards and escort, while Darien had run here there and everywhere, laughing wildly.

He sat comfortably on top of their coach, rattling along the kingsroad to Denerim. They were followed in front and behind by other coaches carrying the Teyrn's retinue, and surrounded on all sides by knights on horseback and other guards, but up where he was Darien was all alone in blessed peace. Why ride in the stuffy coach, when you could enjoy the breeze and fresh air outside?

He idly strummed the lute he had brought along and began an old, well-loved tune.

_"Oh in the merry month of May, from me home I started,_

_Left Highever's girls, nearly broken hearted,_

_Saluted father dear, kissed me darlin' mother,_

_Drank a pint of beer, me grief and tears to smother,"_

he sang while strumming. The knights riding below responded appreciatively, laughing and cheering. Darien couldn't resist a crowd. He continued singing.

_"Off to fight the 'spawn, and leave where I was born,_

_Cut a stout blackthorn to banish ghosts and goblins,_

_In a new pair o' brogues, rattling o'er the bogs,_

_Frightening all the dogs on the rocky road to Denerim!"_

_"One two three four five, HUNT the hare and turn her down,_

_The rocky road all the way to Denerim,_

_Whack-fol-rol-de-la!"_

He finished with a flourish, and waved. Darien set his lute aside and settled back on the roof, staring up into the sky.

They had started out early in the morning. Darien and the rest had accompanied Aedan as he paid his respects at the graves of his father, mother, brother and his family for the last time. There hadn't been any bodies to bury at the time, except for Fergus's. Another sin to add to the weighty slate of Arl Howe's. Yet Aedan had insisted on graves all the same. Although privately Darien felt that rebuilding Castle Cousland was already an impressive testament to the lives of the grandparents that he had never known.

After that was a lengthy ceremony in the throne room, where the Arls, Banns and other nobles had officially sworn fealty to Rolann in Aedan's presence. Everyone had dressed in their best and acted all dignified, even those that had made complete fools of themselves during the feast on the previous night. Bann Wulfred had drank an entire barrel of ale and passed out on the tables, but he said the words as humbly as anyone else. Darien was just grateful Bann Erin didn't say a word about their little meeting later that night in his private chambers. He had tried to tip her a wink, but she just ignored him.

Rolann had worn his customary black robes and held his staff, as if wanting to remind the nobles that their new lord was going to be a mage. Some of them had previously expressed pretty strong sentiments against mages, despite the fact that the Teyrn's son sat on the Circle Tower council. Ferelden's nobles were a fearless, independent bunch for the most part. However they pledged their support all the same. Aedan had worked tirelessly to better their lives and they were willing to trust in his choice of successor. Rolann had looked uncharacteristically dishevelled, as if he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. Darien could have sworn he was fighting not to yawn, and looked distracted at times. Even he could understand why - Rolann had really been knocked for a loop the previous night.

Darien never expected the real truth in a million years. He had wondered along with Aeryn at the real reason why Aedan had decided to leave his family and fight darkspawn in Orzammar, which was a certain death sentence. The answer had stunned him. Secrets of the Grey Wardens, the aftermath of a battle fought years ago, Rolann's real mother. The shadowy Morrigan, who had been mentioned least during all the stories Aedan told of his past.

He had joked about it, but he was feeling pretty unnerved about the whole thing. Aeryn was Aeryn, she adored Rolann and wouldn't let a little thing like being half-siblings change anything. But Darien had always been a tiny bit afraid of his older brother. They were nine years apart in age, and when Darien was little more than a toddler his brother had already completed his Harrowing ritual, as amazing as it sounded. After that he had visited less frequently. When he was older and had begun wandering among the villages to compete in the various archery tournaments, he would inadvertently catch a snatch of rumour about his brother. Rolann had exorcised a demon that was plaguing an orphanage. Rolann was opposing the templars. Rolann had invented a fifth school of magic. Half of it was fantasy, but even the little bits that were true were impressive enough as it was.

When Rolann did make it to Highever he had always been kind but a bit distant to Darien. He hadn't exactly fallen over himself to join in his admittedly childish games. Darien had long assumed Aeryn was going to inherit Highever, considering Rolann's position in the Circle Tower. Now that she was about to become a princess of the royal family, Darien wasn't so sure about the idea of living in the Castle now that his brother's word was law there. He decided to give it a few months. If he didn't like the new life, he supposed he could always move to Denerim. There was no shortage of people who needed a good archer there.

Leliana looked up. Darien's rich voice could be heard from the top of the coach. The knights outside were cheering as he finished his song.

"You know dear, sometimes I think Dare's right. Riding on top of the coach does seem like fun."

"Mmmph," said Aedan vaguely. He was stretched out flat on a makeshift bed, dozing lightly. Leliana swatted his arm.

"My, but there was a time when we could have gone on all night and again the next day. We must really be getting old."

"Mother!" said Aeryn, pausing in the act of moving a knight. She was playing chess with Rolann, something both of them enjoyed. "We're right here."

"My dear girl, I am far too old to be embarrassed by my children. Besides, you're going to be a married woman yourself soon."

"Don't remind me," she said grumpily. "Knight to E4."

Rolann considered for a moment, then made his move. "Queen captures, check. You know Aeryn, I've always thought you used your knights far too aggressively."

"Father said the same thing. He also said I didn't use the queen as well as I should. Pawn forward."

"Queen retreats. I'm sure some scholar or other would find it interesting."

"If any so-called scholar does that, I'll lock him up in the dungeons. I can do that now that I'm going to be queen."

"Forgive an old woman if this is obvious to all but me, but Aeryn dear, are you happy about marrying Duncan or not? On one hand you complain, on the other you're making these grandiose plans about what you will do once you have the crown."

"Oh come off it mother, you're not that old. I don't hate the idea as much as I did, yet I reserve the right to complain about it all the way to Denerim. Bishop captures bishop."

"Oh good, there's still a long way to go yet," sighed Leliana, picking up a book.

"What is it exactly that you want to do, sis? I'm sure you won't want to be one of those queens that just sits around doing nothing. Rook takes bishop."

"I'm not sure where to start, there's so many things that could be improved. Hardly anyone's in the regular military, for instance. These days, with so few darkspawn about, people are content to just farm and trade."

"Never take the peasantry for granted, Aeryn," said Aedan. He had woken up and was apparently paying attention. "If you don't believe me, just read about Andraste's crusade against the Imperium. They had the biggest, best-trained army in the world at the time, but they were defeated because several of their crops failed and their armies starved to death. Heroic deeds and grand battles are sung of after many years have passed. Logistics win you wars."

"I know father, you've told me many times."

"It's a lesson that bears repeating. Alistair and I have been talking a lot recently. Ferelden needs an overhaul of the palace guard and its professional armies. We've been relying too much on mercenaries, and it's draining the royal coffers. The king has a high opinion of your strategic abilities, my girl. His son knows little about fighting a war. With you as his queen however, the realm might stand a chance."

"Our daughter is going to become queen, dear. Not a general."

"Why can't she be both?" said Aedan, just as Aeryn shot back "Why can't I be both?" at the same time. Leliana chuckled.

"I can see I'm going to be overruled on this," she said, idly leafing through her book. "That will be a sight to see indeed. No other woman has ever commanded armies personally since the time of Moira the Rebel Queen."

"I'm sure she'll be great at it, mother," said Rolann. The other three were listening for the same thing, then realised what they were doing and felt a little guilty about it at the same time. Rolann had said the word 'mother' as normally as possible. Aedan decided he was taking the news better than he'd expected.

"Check. Oho, you're in trouble now."

"Queen blocks."

"Too bad. Bishop takes Queen, and that's checkmate. I win this round little sister."

"Again," she said resignedly. "Just once I'd like to beat you."

"Maybe someday."

Aeryn wandered around the little village where their entourage had stopped for lunch, grateful for the chance to stretch her legs. Her parents were being entertained by the local village head and his wife. Darien was off flirting with some girls who tripped over their feet at the sight of man on a horse. Rolann had retired to the coach. She finally had some time to herself.

She was wearing her usual leathers, with a knife tucked discreetly away in her boot. She smiled and nodded at the villagers who bid her a good day and ignored the young men who stopped what they were doing to watch her walk by.

She noticed a little boy sitting on a wall, crying his eyes out. He had short blonde hair and was dressed in the simplest of rags. Seeing no one around, Aeryn went over to him.

"Hello," she said tentatively. The boy went right on howling.

"Um, I'm Aeryn. Could you tell me your name?"

The boy slowed down to big, gasping sobs, and then sniffles. Eventually he stopped crying altogether and stared up at Aeryn. His face was indescribably filthy.

"I'm Mirka."

"Mirka, nice to meet you." The little boy had nothing to say to that. He simply went on looking at her as though she was crazy. Aeryn began to think that maybe she was. She didn't want to shake hands, even the thought of touching them made her feel physically ill.

"Why were you crying, Mirka?"

"It's just so unfair!" he nearly shouted. His shoulders began to shake once more.

"What is?" said Aeryn hastily, hoping to nip another crying fit in the bud.

"Everything!"

"Could you tell me about it?"

"It's my father," said Mirka, wringing his hands. "He hasn't been the same since mother died. He's always at the ale and goes to sleep, and I never get any food. I was looking around the house for some and he caught me going through his things. He beat me up real bad and threw me out."

"That's horrible," said Aeryn sympathetically, risking a pat on the back. When the boy hugged her and smeared his nose all over her front, she managed not to shudder too much.

A door banged open and a huge, bearded man came staggering out of a little shack. He was clutching a flask and reeked strongly of alcohol.

"Where are ya, ya little bastard..." he mumbled vaguely, swaying slightly on the spot. Then his bloodshot eyes focused on his son.

"YOU! Get over here, now!"

Mirka let out a little squeak of terror and dived behind the wall, out of sight. The man started lumbering towards him.

"Excuse me, maybe you should take a step back," said Aeryn.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm just visiting - "

"Get out of my way!" roared the man, giving Aeryn a hard shove. He reached over the wall and yanked his son into the air by the scruff of his neck. He threw him bodily to the ground and and gave him a ringing slap.

"You drank the last of my ale! I'm gonna kill you!" he slurred, punching Mirka square in the gut.

"Hey! Don't do that!" shouted Aeryn, trying to stop him.

Without looking the man lashed out with his fist, catching Aeryn in the jaw and knocking her to the ground. He resumed beating on Mirka.

Enraged not so much by his assault, but the fact that he was hitting his own son, Aeryn swept out his legs from beneath him, leaving the brute lying flat on his back. Mirka broke away and ran off.

"Go! Run!" said Aeryn. But she was grabbed from behind and kicked in the back. She yelled in pain. He gripped her in a headlock, yelling incoherently. The stench was overwhelming.

Aeryn threw an elbow into his ample gut, making him grunt and causing him to lose his grip and stagger. She spun around and followed up with an uppercut to the jaw, putting all her weight behind it as her father had taught her. The man's head snapped back and he fell backwards to the ground again.

The sound of booted footfalls made her pause. Her father's men had caught up with her, drawn by all the shouting. They drew their swords and hauled the drunkard roughly to his feet.

"My lady, we should have been here sooner. Forgive me," said their captain, face white with shock and fear. Another guard came to check up on Aeryn but she brushed him off.

"It's alright, really," she said, rubbing her jaw.

"What happened here?" said Aedan. He had arrived, with Leliana on his arm. All men present saluted briefly in the Teyrn's presence.

"It's this lout, milord," reported the captain. "He assaulted your daughter."

"I see," said Aedan. "Is this true, Aeryn?"

"Yes. I was trying to stop him beating up his son. I mean, his own son!"

"Well the law is clear. An act of violence upon a member of the Teyrn's house is punishable by death," said Aedan, his expression solemn.

The man had begun to cry, huge rasping sobs. Mirka had come out from his hiding place. He hovered near the soldiers, obviously wanting to go to his father and too frightened to come closer.

"Father...I..." said Aeryn, hesitating.

"You'll have to carry out the sentence yourself," said Aedan, his eyes never leaving her. "I'm not going to be around much longer, and if the man is to be sentenced to death, you have to do it yourself."

Mirka looked helplessly at Aeryn.

"I'm not doing it father," said Aeryn firmly.

"Oh? Is it because you can't bear to do it, or is it because you've decided the man does not deserve to die?"

"His real crime's not attacking me, but his son," said Aeryn. "We have to try and help him. Send him to prison, let the chantry try to reach out to him. I won't sentence a man to death for this."

Aedan looked satisfied. "Good. You're learning."

"But he shouldn't be allowed near his son any longer," said Aeryn.

"Also a good point. Child, do you have any other relatives?"

Mirka's mouth gaped, but no sound came out. He looked terrified of Aedan, who was easily the most regal-looking person he had ever seen.

"Come now, I'm not going to hurt you. Just answer my question."

"No, milord. Just me and da since ma died."

"If the father goes to prison, who'll be responsible for him? We can't ask one of the villagers to bear another burden." Aedan asked rhetorically.

"He can come with us," said Aeryn. "I'm sure I can find something for him to do."

"No need, dear," spoke up Leliana. "The farrier mentioned something about needing a new apprentice. He can take charge of the boy."

"What do you say, um..."

"Mirka."

"Mirka? Farrier Seth is a tough but fair man. You'll have to work hard, but you won't be punished for no reason."

"Thank you," said Mirka. "I won't be a bother, milord, swear on the Maker."

"Oh, don't go troubling him on my account," said Aedan. "It's getting close to the time He and I met at last, and I want him in the best of moods."

"Aedan!" said Leliana, annoyed at his irreverent tone. Chuckling, the Teyrn walked off in the direction of the coach.


	9. Memories

**Chapter Nine – Memories**

**Dragon Age 9:55**

**Denerim**

Aedan was a Highever man through and through. He supposed he would always think of himself as one, no matter where he went or how far he stayed away. He loved the smell of the Waking Sea and hearing the waves crash on the shores, the sense of mutual respect that the city's people always have had for their ruling Teyrns. It was the place he truly felt he belonged, and he was glad Leliana had found it in herself to love it too.

As biased as he was though, he had to admit that Highever couldn't hold a candle to Denerim, the capital of Ferelden.

The first thing he noticed was that everything was bigger there. The houses, the craftsmen halls, the guilds, the guard towers all loomed larger than the ones back home. There were far more people too, from the lowliest beggar to the highest noble lord of all stripes and colours, jostling each other to conduct their own business. There was also a far greater variety of people. You were more likely to see mages, templars, and foreigners here than anywhere else in Ferelden, as well as the odd elf and dwarf. The sound of strange accents and languages combined like nowhere else in the country. Denerim had the best food, the latest fashions and music and art. Everyone wanted to visit the birthplace of Andraste, the town that Calenhad built.

As the seat of power, Denerim was a prime target for attacks and sieges. It had been captured several times, most notably by the darkspawn in the last Blight. But although Denerim had fallen on multiple occasions, it could never truly have said to been defeated. During his sweep of the broken and ruined city, Aedan found himself fighting alongside entire groups of citizens who had somehow managed to disappear into the boltholes and hiding places only a local would know about, and were waiting for rescue. Most didn't even wait, conducting guerilla warfare from their own homes in a style that a trained Grey Warden would have been proud of. A surprising heap of darkspawn had not been killed by the troops Aedan brought into the city, but by Denerim's infamously hard-bitten citizens. Even the cutpurses, thieves and robbers had banded together to attack the darkspawn. After all, if the city was overrun there wouldn't be anyone left to steal from.

As befitting his role in liberating the beleaguered capital, Aedan was given the freedom of the city and widely recognised as the man to thank for ensuring future generations would continue to consider Denerim as the spiritual, political and cultural heart of the country. Subsequently, any visit he made was a matter of widespread public interest. It wasn't on the scale of throngs of cheering people of course, the Denerim men and women weren't quite as sappy as that. Aedan was surprised they had cheered him even immediately after killing the archdemon. He never thought he'd see the day where Denerim's notorious mob would genuinely give thanks to someone instead of trying to sell him stuff or cut his throat or pick his pocket (usually in that order). Still, the cry of "the Teyrn of Highever's coming this way" would make most people sit up and take notice.

He'd elected to ride on his own horse, at the head of his entourage instead of remaining cooped up in the carriage. Riding through Denerim on a personal steed was generally outlawed for all except the highest ranking nobles and the like, in order to reduce congestion in the streets. Sedately trotting through the streets presented another benefit, in that he wouldn't have to step his way through thirty different kinds of muck that layered most paths through Denerim. Aedan intended to take full advantage of it. After all, it would be the last time he'd ever get a chance.

Everywhere he looked was another reminder of the battle he had fought to free the city. There was a street where he had chased down an ogre. To the right was a shophouse gutted by fire, now rebuilt and repaired. To the left, a blind alley where Sten had cut down a band of hurlocks like so much meat. Off in the distance, the elven Alienage where even the most wretched and despised inhabitants of Denerim had laid down their lives for their homes.

The reconstruction of the capital was the first item on the king's agenda after the Blight had been defeated. Backed by Arl Eamon and sufficient contributions from the nobility, substantially bolstered by Aedan glaring at them threateningly as Eamon had beseeched for donations, the reconstruction was a massive success. Better walls and defenses, more public spaces, better sewage systems, everything. After all, as Leliana had commented, tearing down Denerim just gave them an opportunity to build a better one. Even the Alienage had been cleaned up, opened to the public and was much better policed. Under the king and queen's policies, elves were slowly but surely integrating into Ferelden society at long last. It was now known as "Little Elvhenan", and had become a prime tourist spot.

Among the many accomplishments Aedan had managed over the course of his life, he supposed history scholars would rank him highest for saving Denerim. As long as they remembered to add that it was a Highever lad who had done it, he supposed he wouldn't mind. Let that rankle those stuck-up capital city folk for generations to come!

The entourage reached the Royal Palace and came to a halt before the guards, who as Aedan noted with some satisfaction, were not sleeping on the job or slouching or looking in desperate need of a quick smoke. He had emphasised the need to elevate security standards, especially in the recent years, seeing as how they were going to the first line of defence protecting his daughter and all.

A guardsman saluted to him, which Aedan returned with deliberate seriousness. "State your name and business before the Palace Guard."

Names and titles. Live long enough and any man in his position could collect enough to fill a library. Both Leliana and Zevran had told him of foreign nobles who had done just that, carefully hoarding honours as a miser does with gold. Apparently the more titles you had, the more you had to be taken seriously. Of all that he possessed however, Hero of Ferelden and ex Warden Commander being chief among them, Aedan would always use the one he valued the most, the one he never thought he could ever have when he was no more than a boy.

"Teyrn Cousland of Highever," said Aedan. "As for my business, I am escorting the Lady Aeryn Cousland, also of Highever, to the Royal Palace to wed her betrothed the Crown Prince Duncan of House Theirin."

"Pass in peace, in the name of the - "

A hand on his shoulder made him pause and spin around. It was a good thing that he was holding his spear in a slightly elevated position, Aedan mused later, or he would certainly have skewered the reigning King of Ferelden.

"Careful Bill, you might do someone an injury with that."

"Your majesty! I - I - "

"Don't worry about it. Take the day off, I've got this covered. It would be a sad day when I can't personally welcome Cousland and his family to my house."

Aedan dismounted, lowered his eyes and got down on one knee before the king, being very obtusely cordial. "Your majesty."

"Oh do get up Aedan, you know you don't need to do that."

Aedan stood up, grinning, and grasped his friend's hand. "I know that. But I felt like it anyway."

"Still the same old Cousland, I see."

"Always," said Aedan. "You look well, Alistair."

He certainly did. Aedan recalled their first meeting, back in the day. He had been sent by Duncan to scour the Ostagar camp for the other Grey Warden recruit. Wondering idly how the legendary Warden somehow only managed to discover two worthy recruits throughout the entire country, Aedan wandered around the tents and soldiers, trying to look inconspicuous. He had been yanked from his home and family and told to join the mysterious order of warriors who had defended the land for generations. In retrospect he wasn't actually certain of much else, other than the fact that they rode griffons.

Aedan expected Alistair to be a military sort of fellow, grizzled, world weary, chopped off more heads than he had hot dinners. Then he saw a young templar about his age making snarky remarks to a pompous mage and was bemused to discover that this was the senior recruit Duncan had asked him to find.

Back then he had sandy-blonde, close cropped hair and was clad in a rusty suit of splintmail a crippled genlock would have turned up its nose at. He had no more than a hint of stubble on his chin and warm brown eyes that always seemed to be twinkling with glee at some private joke. Aedan soon learned that this frequently was the case.

The man that faced him now looked every inch the storybook king. Even though his hairline was receding and he had grown rather stout, Alistair had let his beard grow out in a manner that would make a dwarf proud. Aedan couldn't help noticing that he wore it in the same style as the Warden Duncan once did. He wore a deep purple doublet made of some fancy velvet material and a thick gold chain hung around his neck, but otherwise he wore no crown or carried any weapon that signified his station. Even after all these years, Alistair detested the trappings of the court. He was well known as something of an oddity among the other ruling heads of state of Thedas, for speaking frankly and caring more about the lower classes than was usual.

"This is a joyous day, Alistair. Our families will be joined forever, to secure the future of Ferelden. It's the best thing I could ask for before I leave for the Deep Roads."

"So I heard," said Alistair concernedly. "Are you absolutely sure it's the...you know...thingy?"

"Yes mate, I'm sure," said Aedan, making an effort not to roll his eyes.

"Oh good. Well not exactly good, obviously, but you know what I mean."

"Yes I do," sighed Aedan. Alistair chuckled at his world weary tone.

"Your majesty, it's wonderful to see you again," called Leliana, coming out from the carriage. Alistair bowed his head and kissed her hand.

"Leliana. It's been far too long."

"It certainly has. Isn't the queen with you?"

"Oh she's off somewhere making some last minute preparations for the wedding. You know how she is."

Without looking Aedan knew Leliana would have to bite her lip from remarking at that last bit. She changed the subject as deftly as she would have fired an arrow from a bow.

"The rose gardens look lovely, Alistair. Just perfect for a wedding. I know I wanted the Grand Chantry, but I have to admit your idea was so much better."

"It was Duncan's idea, actually. You know how sentimental he can get. It is special to him and Aeryn after all."

Rolann, Aeryn, and Darien were the next to pay homage to the king. They'd known Alistair ever since they were little children, and considered him a favourite uncle. He bade them rise and embraced each of them in turn.

"Aeryn my dear, you look absolutely beautiful. I cannot express how happy I am that you're going to marry Duncan. We're delighted to welcome you into the family."

Aeryn blushed furiously, and muttered something incomprehensible. Alistair turned his attention to Rolann, tall and imposing in his black robes.

"Rolann, my boy. It's a pleasure to see you again. How are things at the Circle Tower?"

"Progressing wonderfully, your majesty. We're thinking of holding an international summit with the mages of Orlais, Antiva and the Tevinter Imperium sometime in the near future."

"A gathering of mages from all over Thedas? I've never heard of such a thing before. It sounds most interesting."

"We must move with the times, your majesty."

"You're quite right. Although we don't want to grow too close to the Tevinters, their name's still mud around these parts," said Alistair, frowning slightly as he studied Rolann's face.

"Are you all right, lad? You don't look very well, if you don't mind me saying."

"Oh no, it's just...I haven't been sleeping well lately," said Rolann, flustered.

"I could send the court physician to give you something, if you like."

"Thank you, your majesty, but it won't be necessary."

"If you say so," said Alistair. He clasped Darien's hand and shook it vigorously.

"Darien! How many scrapes have you got into since I saw you last?"

"More times than I can count," put in Aedan.

"Seeking out adventure and remaining within my lord father's good graces are often at odds, Uncle Alistair," said Darien jauntily.

"You should do more to please your father lad," chided Alistair gently. "Neither he nor I ever knew ours as much as we'd liked."

"I will, sire," said Darien, chastened.

"Not to worry. Come now, we've stood around long enough in the courtyard. Your usual rooms have been prepared. Bill will escort you there."

"Your majesty...do you know where I might find Duncan? I need to speak to him," asked Rolann suddenly.

"I believe he is in the library," answered Alistair.

Rolann stepped into the royal library, the thud of his staff on the stone floor echoing loudly in the huge chamber. There was no one around, and the shelves upon shelves of ancient books, tomes, scrolls and charts loomed menacingly in the dim light. Rolann had always loved spending time in the royal library, which was far bigger than the one at Highever, and had more books on history and other subjects than the library at the Circle Tower.

"Your highness. A word."

The Crown Prince Duncan stepped out from behind a shelf, perusing an open book. He was a very handsome man, with long, straight hair of bright gold. He kept himself clean-shaven and had eyes of bright blue that many a maid had gone to bed dreaming of. He had the Theirin looks and his father's affable, personable nature, but on more than one occasion he'd shown flashes of Queen Anora's character - steel, cold and hard. At those times his laughing blue eyes would turn to two chips of ice in a flash. He was wearing a hauberk bearing the Theirin coat of arms thrown over a suit of mail, with elegant drakeskin boots and gloves dyed an eye-catching shade of bronze.

"Interesting read, this. Did you know the wedding customs of Orlais are far different than ours? Everyone, unto the poorest man, is expected to hold a grand celebration where his enemies are not only expected to be invited, but be accorded the seats of honour as well. Something you might want to consider when you get married yourself, don't you think? Seeing as how you're half-Orlesian," said the prince, without taking his eyes from the book.

_I once thought so too. Now I know better._

"Would I possess the inclination to conduct my wedding in the Orlesian manner, you would certainly be given the highest place of honour, your highness," said Rolann, his voice in leaden tones.

"Now is that wise, Senior Councillor? Making a threat to my royal person. You're fortunate no one is around to witness it."

"Take it as you will, your highness. I have something to say and you'd best pay attention until I'm done."

"I can certainly spare a moment or two for the man who will become my goodbrother by nightfall tomorrow."

"Good," said Rolann, fighting the urge to smack the prince across the face. But that would be unwise, even for all his powers, connections and prominence. Duncan noted the tightening of Rolann's mouth and the muscle working in his cheek and smiled that lazy, insolent smile that made things ten times worse.

"Do not be so quick to lay your hand on me this time, Cousland. This time I might not be of a mind to let you keep it."

Rolann took a deep breath, knowing he was falling for Duncan's little game and hating himself for it. He'd faced down angry templars and arrogant warlocks with little more than a raised eyebrow, but Duncan always brought out the worst in him. Eventually he got himself under control.

"My message, your highness. You are to be wed to my sister. Our houses are to be joined, our destinies entwined. I will inherit my father's lands, keep and title and with them assume the role as one of the foremost lords of the realm. For the love I bear my sister, I wish to end the animosity between us. Great challenges lie ahead and it would be best for all to meet them, if not as friends, then at least as allies."

Duncan looked at Rolann suspiciously. This clearly wasn't what he was expecting.

"My ears must be deceiving me. Do you wish to apologise for your actions? I thought you swore you'd be in the ground before that happened."

"Some things are...more important than oaths. My sister is one of them. So is the realm. It would be unwise for the King of Ferelden and his Teyrn of Highever to be forever at odds. Not to mention the Council of Magi. To let this bad blood continue would undermine all the work and sacrifices our fathers endured."

Duncan brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his arm. But Rolann knew that the prince was not stupid. If he could swallow his pride and appeal to reason, Duncan would respond likewise.

"You speak the truth. Although it would be simplicity itself to remove Highever from your grasp and bestow it upon a more deserving person - "

Rolann clenched his fists involuntarily.

" - that sort of thing inevitably ends in tears. For Aeryn's sake, I agree. Let us bury the hatchet in her name, our fathers' names, and that of Ferelden."

Duncan extended a hand, smiling. Rolann took it and shook it slowly. Then he pulled Duncan close to him in a sudden jerk that made him gasp in shock.

"What are you doing - "

"Now that's over with, you listen to me," whispered Rolann with razor-edged deliberateness. "I know what you're like. Word gets around, even in Highever. You've been the Maker's gift to womenfolk ever since you were old enough to shave. Now all of that stops as of nightfall tomorrow."

"Unhand me at once!"

"In a moment. Aeryn is dear to me. She is a brilliant, talented woman who would make an excellent queen to any king or emperor you could care to mention. Maker knows why she's to be yours, but if that's her fate, so be it. Just one small caveat."

"If you don't let me go, I'm going to - "

"Shut up. If Aeryn ever, _ever _has cause to inform me you have been mistreating her, or fallen into some other woman's bed behind her back, I will come for you. I will rain fire and blood upon your head as only a mage knows how. I will tear down Denerim itself to exact justice upon you. If you think you can delay me by taking away Highever, or the Circle, or calling for my execution, know this. I do not care one jot. All I care about is my sister's happiness, and you will labour night and day to see that this is so. That's it."

Rolann let Duncan go and he wrenched away, straightening his hauberk and glaring at him with eyes full of hate.

"Blood of Andraste," he swore. "You will suffer for this, Cousland. This I promise."

"I don't care," said Rolann, unbowed. "Just as long as my sister is not wronged. For if she is, you will suffer twice as worse."

Lips drawing back from his teeth in a snarl, Duncan started towards Rolann, one hand on his sword. But before anything could happen, Darien stepped into the room.

"Um, the king sent me to look for you guys," he said uncertainly, looking from one man to the next.

"Right," said Duncan, exhaling heavily and brushing back his hair. "It's wonderful to see you again, Darien. Come, you must tell me what you've been doing since we last met."

Putting an arm around Darien's shoulder, he left the room without a backward glance at Rolann. The mage watched them go. Duncan and Darien had always been the best of friends. They'd even squired together for a spell under Bann Teagan, and every time Rolann talked to his brother he would have some tale to tell of the young prince.

If Duncan was bold enough, he wouldn't think twice about getting rid of Rolann on some half-baked charge and giving Highever to Darien in his stead. But for all his faults, Rolann knew that the prince did love his sister, after a fashion. The problem was getting him to remain faithful.

Rolann went out of the library, deep in thought. If the worst came to the worst, he'd leave Highever and remain on the move around Ferelden. He still could keep an eye on Aeryn then. Let Duncan do what he wished with the city. Rolann had other plans in mind.

**Dragon Age 9:47**

**Royal Palace**

**Denerim**

Aeryn loved the royal rose gardens on the Denerim palace grounds. The scent of the beautiful blooming flowers filled the air better than any chemist's shop. The queen had planted lots of the traditional red ones, but here and there were blue, yellow, white and even black roses. It was quiet and peaceful, far away from the noise (and smell) of the city streets. It was her favourite place to sneak off to and just relax on the sweet grass, watching the clouds drift by.

The king had called her father to the capital yet again, for about the third time that year. Although the queen was less than thrilled, even she couldn't deny that the Hero of Ferelden was more than just a strong sword arm. Together, the three of them made a surprisingly efficient diplomatic team, even more so when backed up by Leliana's intuitive grasp of any ambassador's motives and intentions. Aedan hadn't taken his daughter along the last time, and had finally relented when she had pretty much followed him around for days, begging to see the sights of Denerim. She loved the marketplaces, the theaters, the spectacle of it all. Highever was grand in its way, but Highever was a sleepy hamlet compared to Denerim.

Aeryn leaned against a tree, munching an apple with her nose deep in a book about the Qunari conquest of Par Vollen. Even at the age of ten, she was far more interested in what her father liked to read than her mother's stories.

Something hard fell on top of her head, making her drop her book and cry out in pain. She snatched up the offending object, which turned out to be another apple which had fallen from the tree she was sitting under. She could hear helpless giggling coming from behind the nearest rose bush. Winding up her arm, she threw the apple directly into the middle of the bush. The resulting thud and annoyed yell left her smiling in satisfaction.

"Darien! Come on out of there, or I'm telling mom!"

Her little brother crawled out, leaves tangled up in his hair. He was clutching the bow with which he had shot the apple off the tree.

"Aw come on Ryn, I was just playin'," he whined.

"Go find someone else to play with. I'm busy."

"Dunc said you would say that."

"Duncan? This was his idea? I'm gonna smack him!"

"He said you'd say that too."

"But you're first!" said Aeryn, leaping to her feet and sprinting towards her brother. He yelled and dashed away, laughing deliriously. Aeryn chased him around the garden, leaping over bushes and wriggling under hedges. But Darien was always one step ahead of her and she finally had to give up, sweating profusely and her long red hair a wild, tangled mess. She sat back down under her tree, panting heavily and wishing she could get a drink of water.

"Aeryn, you look hot and bothered. Even more so than usual, if I do say so myself. Care for a sip of wine?" called a smooth, cool voice.

It was Duncan the young prince, the only child of King Alistair. Unlike Aeryn, who was dressed in a nondescript leather bodice and boy's trousers in a muted shade of brown, he was wearing a silk tunic coloured red and sported a sword in a golden scabbard at his hip. It matched his hair, also golden and falling in a mass of curls to his shoulders. He was wearing his customary half-smile half-smirk and was holding a golden goblet aloft in one hand.

Aeryn supposed Duncan was handsome, in a classic kind of way. Maker knew he had the eye of every young woman in Ferelden, be they peasant girl or Arl's daughter. A couple of years older than Aeryn, he was charming and knew all the right things to say at any social event, and was usually the best-dressed person in any room he walked into. Duncan was also fond of telling jokes, a trait he shared with his father.

As a warrior though, Duncan was average at best, whether with lance, sword or bow. The one time Queen Anora had agreed to let him spar with Aeryn in a practice fight the Teyrn's daughter had taken great pleasure in beating him soundly, even if it was only with a wooden sword. He wasn't so keen on participating in any more fights after that.

"I'd prefer cold water, if it's all the same to you," said Aeryn, wiping the sweat from her brow.

"You only have to say the word, my love, and it shall be yours. Willa, a draught of cold water for Lady Aeryn if you please."

A serving maid who had been waiting in silence some distance away curtsied and sped off in the direction of the palace.

Aeryn scowled at the prince. "What did you just call me?"

"'Tis only proper to refer to my beloved betrothed as such."

"Betrothed? What are you talking about?"

Duncan looked surprised, blinking his big blue eyes. "Surely your lady mother must have told you? We are to be wed once we are of age."

Aeryn stared at him, not understanding a thing. Her mother definitely had not mentioned anything of the sort to her. Oh there was the time Leliana had wanted to discuss something with her, but Aeryn left to go horse riding and had forgotten all about it. She decided Duncan was just messing around as usual.

"What were you up to anyway?" inquired Duncan, brushing the ground beneath him and settling himself on the grass beside her.

"I was running after my little brother, because he dropped an apple onto my head, because you told him to."

Duncan flashed his uncommonly white teeth, kept that way through special chemicals imported from the Free Marches. "Darien was boasting about what a good shot he was, so I challenged him to prove it. I didn't actually ask him to bother you."

"But you didn't stop him either."

"Guilty as charged. Ah, your drink's arrived. Please accept it with my apologies."

"Thank you," said Aeryn to the maid, drinking noisily from the flask she brought. Duncan sipped from his goblet of wine with a touch more decorum.

"You know," began Duncan, when they'd finished. "Your father and mine are going to be busy for the rest of the day, and possibly the entire week. Have you seen much of Denerim while you've been here?"

Aeryn had to shake her head. She'd hoped for Aedan to take her around the city, but they'd barely spoken since they'd arrived. She hadn't the faintest idea what they were discussing, although if she had to hazard a guess it would be about the political unrest that had gotten everyone talking. Some Arl or the other had refused to pay taxes or something and there was talk of open rebellion to the king's rule.

"A shame. Would you like to? We could take a walk around the city together."

"That actually sounds rather nice."

"It will be, once I ditch Ser Reingold and we can get away on our own," said Duncan in a low tone, looking conspiratorially over his shoulder. Ser Reingold was a grim, implacable knight who wielded a two-handed greatsword and was commanded to serve as the prince's personal bodyguard. He was standing under the shade of a nearby tree, far enough to be polite but close enough to constantly remind them of his presence.

"Won't we get into trouble?" whispered Aeryn fiercely, casting a worried glance at Ser Reingold.

"Oh, never mind him. We'll be back before he knows it," said Duncan flippantly. Aeryn decided not to risk another glance lest Ser Reingold got suspicious. Still, the idea of spending a day around Denerim seemed like fun. She was dying to see the sights of the city. She nodded quickly and Duncan flashed his brilliant smile once again.

"Meet me here at the bottom of the garden in ten minutes. There's a secret exit only I know about."

He got up and went over to talk to Ser Reingold. Taking advantage of the distraction, Aeryn dashed back to the palace to change and grab a few things.

From his hiding place up in a tree Darien watched them go.

"What kept you?" asked Aeryn irritably. She had been waiting beside a thick privet hedge for half an hour. She'd changed out of her sweaty clothes and was now dressed in a grey cloak and a hood. After some thought, she'd strapped a dagger to her leg and tucked it inside her boot. One could never be too careful.

"Ser Reingold took some persuasion to leave well alone and...Maker's breath, what are you wearing?"

"This cloak? What's wrong with it?"

"It has a ridiculous hood, for crying out loud. No one uses it except for mages and actors. It'll draw more attention than deflect it."

"Let's just go already," said Aeryn, pushing back her hood guiltily. Chuckling, Duncan led her to a little gap in the hedge.

"Hardly anyone knows it's here. But if we climb through it and stay in the shadows we can come to a door built into the castle wall. It leads out of the palace grounds and into Denerim. I think it's a secret passage."

"Ohh, it could be the one the royal family escaped from during the Orlesian attack! Or even the one father used when retaking the palace from the darkspawn!"

"Could be," sniffed Duncan. "Personally I don't care much for history. Battles and dates and kings bore me to death. I prefer to live in the moment."

Sticking close to the wall, they managed to escape the notice of a passing patrol and wrench the door open, Aeryn looking over her shoulder with every loud creak. Then they walked a long way through a dark, damp passageway, silent save for the steady drip of water from the ceiling and the low rumble of the city, still audible yet muted through the layers of stone and soil. Duncan led the way, with Aeryn holding on to his hand. Eventually they reached a short flight of stone steps, which led up to a dusty room with a wooden floor. Sacks, crates and other rubbish were strewn about everywhere.

"Where are we?"

"It's an old, abandoned warehouse in the Market district. No one ever comes in here. Let's go!"

They emerged in a throng of chaos, blinking at the bright sunlight and reeling slightly from the noise and hubbub all around. No one paid the slightest bit of attention to two children walking out of a warehouse.

It was everything Aeryn expected and more. She'd accompanied her mother to Highever on market day, but Denerim on a normal day dwarfed it easily. Fruit and vegetable sellers hawked their wares from carts. Fish mongers were easy to find by the smell alone, touting huge barrels of crabs, eels and fish fresh-caught from the bay and packed in ice (but not from the Drakon river, fish couldn't live in the river). Armor and weaponsmiths did a roaring trade, smoke and the ringing of hammers on anvils and the steady pump of bellows all pouring forth from shopfronts. Some of the older shops had signs and huge buildings to house them in, like the Wonders of Thedas which stocked rare magical artifacts. But most of the trade took place at street level, where the commonfolk haggled over prices at the top of their lungs with the merchants. There were potions and spices, jewelry and flowers, tools and all kinds of little presents. Aeryn had in her purse all the money she had in the world, and it wasn't enough to buy a quarter of the things she wanted.

Duncan flipped a couple of coppers to an old woman manning a fruit stall, and selected a pair of ripe pink peaches. He gave one to Aeryn and bade her take the first bite. It was the sweetest thing she ever tasted, the juice bursting forth and running down her chin. She wiped it away and smiled at Duncan, happy to be out and about on such a fine day. This was far better than being annoyed by Darien or lectured by her mother.

As they wandered around Aeryn couldn't help but notice the people milling about. In Highever to the north a man might see a dwarf or an elf on rare occasion. Now that she thought about it, the only dwarf and elf she'd ever seen back home was Oghren and Zevran, and even they visited rarely. Also, the only mages she saw were the ones that accompanied Rolann on his visits home. Here they were everywhere, the mages mostly crowding around the Wonders of Thedas, puffing away on pipes and arguing noisily, if amicably. The dwarven smiths and traders were working in tandem and producing arms and armour of far superior quality to anything a human smith could achieve. Aeryn noticed that the richer looking and better dressed men were flocking to the dwarves to buy their goods. There were also a lot of elves around, most dressed in rags and shoddy clothing, but a fair few better dressed and openly carrying bows. Some of them were even clad in the mail of the City Guard. One or two Qunari giants loomed like huge icebergs in the sea of people, who gave them a wide berth. They were clad in plate, their faces grim.

Aeryn bought a falcon feather arrow for Darien, a quill pen for Rolann, a bottle of scent made from the crushed flowers of Andraste's Grace for her mother, and was trying to decide what to get for her father while Duncan finished his peach and bought another. Finally she settled on a scabbard made to hold a dagger. It was made of drakeskin leather, and coloured an interesting dark green. She didn't have enough money to pay for it, but Duncan gallantly bought it for her. He seemed to have brought along a lot of money with him.

"Thank you. I know father would like it," said Aeryn, holding the scabbard and liking the feel of the drakeskin. It was smooth and supple to the touch.

"The least I could do," said Duncan, taking another bite of fruit. "What say we get out of this sun and take in a play? They're doing a marvellous one of Maric and Loghain and the River Dane the last time I was here."

It was all Aeryn could do to nod her head. She didn't like music or dancing or singing much, but one thing she did love was the stage. On the few occasions the Teyrn had welcomed a travelling band of actors to Highever, Aeryn had always pleaded to stay up and watch the whole performance. Andraste's Exalted marches, Aveline the First, Maric's revolution, even her father's slaying of the archdemon. All of them came alive through a few simple costumes and props. Duncan saw the look of excitement on her face and understood immediately.

"Excellent. My favourite place is just this way."

Laughing and joking, the pair strolled hand in hand down the crowded streets, completely unaware that their progress was being watched, and followed.

"For the love of the Maker, Anora, we cannot hire a Crow to kill this man!" exclaimed Aedan, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

"It gets the job done, we keep our hands clean, and we remove the ridiculous and treasonous lies that he's spreading around," replied Queen Anora cooly. She was seated at the head of a huge table, which was covered with maps and letters and scrolls. King Alistair was standing at the window, looking out over the gardens and apparently lost in thought.

"They aren't lies, everyone knows that Alistair's a bastard - "

"That doesn't mean he's not the rightful king!"

"No, it doesn't. But killing the man in the dead of the night with a hired knife - men will talk, Anora. No matter how quietly it was done, the blame will inadvertently fall on us. Then the realm will know that their king isn't above sending assassins to slay his subjects. That will lead to civil war!"

"I assure you, Teyrn Cousland, for the right price the Crow we can get will make it look like a complete accident."

"It doesn't matter!"

"Enough!" said Alistair in a firm tone. Aedan fell silent immediately. Anora looked chagrined. "All these quarrels get us nowhere. We need a decision, and fast. Arl McFadden isn't the only one who's been talking of rebellion. Eamon and others have been informing me of other seditious mutterings. We've tried diplomacy with the man. It's failed. We will have to remove him once and for all."

"That's exactly what I've been saying," began Anora, but Alistair silenced her with a look, a feat which impressed Aedan very much.

"But not by assassination," Alistair went on. "Aedan has the right of it. If he dies quietly at a time when his accusations are the loudest, all of Ferelden will think we hired someone to bump him off. That will work for the short term, but what about the future? They'll say we aren't strong enough to hold the throne. No, we must meet him on the field of battle, a show of strength for the rest of them who might be thinking along the same lines. Once his garrison is crushed and he lies in chains, there will be no further talk of rebellion."

"This isn't wise at all, Alistair. Many lives will be lost."

"No more than the lives that would be lost in a civil war. No, my mind is made up. We will ride against McFadden as soon as possible. Aedan, you'll lead the main force. I'll command the reserve."

Aedan bowed his head. "As you wish, your majesty." He was pleased that Alistair was taking swift and decisive action.

There was a loud knocking at the chamber door. Alistair shot Aedan a puzzled look. He had made it clear they were not to be disturbed throughout the entirety of their discussions.

"Enter," commanded the queen.

Ser Reingold stepped into the room, flanked by two guardsmen. He looked in a state of some distress, which was a sight as rare as Anora being silent. He knelt on one knee before Alistair. "Your majesty. A situation has arisen."

"Rise," said Alistair, frowning. Ser Reingold did so. "If you have something important to say, out with it."

"Sire. It's the Crown Prince. He bid me to deliver a message to Lady Morningway in person. I was loath to leave his side, but he insisted, claiming he would remain in the rose gardens with the Teyrn's daughter. I did as he asked, but her ladyship laughed and asked why I would bring her a blank sheet of paper. When I returned to the gardens, they were not to be found."

"Aeryn is missing as well?" cut in Aedan sharply. Ser Reingold nodded his head.

"Yes, your grace. I questioned the palace guardsmen and gardeners on duty, but they did not see either of them leave. I then came at once to inform you."

Alistair chuckled. "A child's jest. Nobody likes to be followed around all the time. Doubtless they'll turn up again later."

Anora's reaction was completely different to that of her husband. The colour had drained out of her face, and she looked as pale as a ghost. Her blue eyes, which Duncan had inherited, had turned into two chips of ice. She placed both her hands on the table and stood up very deliberately.

"You will leave this chamber at once and find the captain of the City Guard. He is to lock down the entire city. Every gate, door and hole leading out of Denerim is to be sealed immediately. From the moment he receives his orders, not a single soul is to enter or leave Denerim without my express command. Do I make myself clear?"

"Anora, what are you talking about? You can't shut down the entire city - "

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" she screamed, ignoring Alistair, her eyes locked on the unfortunate Ser Reingold. "Go NOW!"

The knight didn't even bother to bow, he left the room so fast Aedan thought he could see sparks fly.

"Anora!" said Alistair, affronted. "Don't you think this is a little overboard?"

Anora turned her icy glare on the king. "Duncan might be in danger. Our son might be in danger, Alistair. I will take no chances. You may be right and he's just off playing with the Cousland girl, in which case we'll find him at once. Or I may be right, and his life might be in danger, and if we don't act quickly we might find him dead. I haven't ruled this long not to prepare for the worst."

Although Aedan didn't like the way she was talking about his daughter, he could understand Anora's willingness to use extreme measures. She had been first married to King Cailan for over five years, and not once was she able to have a child. There were even rumours that she was barren, and Cailan was thinking of leaving her to court the Empress of Orlais. Then the Blight happened and she wound up as Alistair's bride, mainly through Aedan's devious machinations. The need for an heir to the throne was no less dire, and the fact that Grey Wardens very rarely had children piled even more anxiety on her slim shoulders. Aedan and Leliana themselves had been trying for seven years before she was pregnant with Aeryn. By the grace of the Maker, Anora had given birth to Duncan two years before that. She would never admit it, but Aedan knew the relief must have been overwhelming. Alistair loved Duncan well, but he meant so much more to Anora. Locking down the capital city was a comparatively tame example of the lengths she was willing to go to ensure his safety.

As protective as she was of Duncan, Aeryn was his daughter and Aedan would do no less. The Maker grant that Alistair was right, but...

"Anora's right. We can't take chances with their safety. Once the gates are barred, it'll only be a matter of time before we find them."

It wasn't very pleasant in the theatre. They got in late, so all the seats were filled up and they had to stand in the gallery. Aeryn was tall for a ten year old, but she was being blocked by people everywhere she turned. It took a bout of determined pushing to get to a place where she could actually see something. The theatre was also dark and very stuffy, and being crammed in with all the others meant that she could smell about fifty different kinds of body odour. She'd have to scrub down thoroughly when she returned to the palace.

Despite all that, Aeryn only had eyes for the stage. The speeches were mostly over, and they were reenacting the part where Teyrn Loghain led the charge across the River Dane to break the ranks of the Orlesians. The Teyrn had been both hero and villain throughout his troubled life. Her father had killed him in single combat, and he once told her it was the hardest fight he'd ever been in. Not because Loghain had fancy magic tricks or breathed fire, but because he believed utterly that what he was doing was right. It was generally known the queen approved of plays like this one, as she was keen for the public not to overlook the more admirable parts of her father's history.

Beside her Duncan was squirming uncomfortably. He was expecting a couple of seats where they could watch the play in relative luxury, not being sandwiched between Aeryn and a massive fishmonger who smelled as though he was taking a break from gutting twenty barrels of fish (as a matter of fact, he was). Duncan's constant exclamations of irritation were very distracting to Aeryn.

The play was soon over to a round of applause, some scattered boos and a shower of peanut shells from one particularly irate spectator. The people began to file out of the theatre, talking and laughing.

"Well that didn't go exactly as planned," said Duncan, smoothing down his rumpled clothing. "I apologise, my lady."

"Don't be," said Aeryn, stepping close and giving him a light kiss on the tip of his nose. The look on Duncan's face was a sight to behold. This was the first time Aeryn had displayed any kind of affection for him, her usual mood when she was around him was a mix of exasperation and annoyance. "I had a great time. Thank you for bringing me here."

"I promise, when we get back I'll arrange for a proper troupe to visit. We can watch them without being squashed halfway to death."

"That would be very nice of you."

They lingered a little, Aeryn hoping for another appearance by the actors. When it was clear they weren't going to come out again, they decided to leave. The theatre was almost empty by then.

The dark theatre became even darker when a couple of men stepped into the doorway, blocking out the sunlight.

"Excuse us," said Duncan politely, coming to a stop in front of them. The men did not budge an inch. They were tall, the tops of their heads brushing the lintel of the doorway. They were wearing black, and sported swords at their hips. One man displayed huge arms with muscles upon muscles, and tattoos covered every spot of bare skin like grass on the West Hills. The other man had a thin moustache and goatee, and an ugly, half-healed scar from a cut that had opened his cheek to the bone. His lips parted in a mocking sneer.

Duncan looked at them warily. "Sers, please make way. We need to be going."

"Indeed you do. In our company."

"I don't think so - " began Aeryn, and was immediately knocked to the floor by a cruel backhand from the first man. Shakily, she touched a finger to her lip. It stung like hell, and came away bloody.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" cried Duncan, trying to help Aeryn. The huge man grabbed him roughly and held his arms in a vice-like grip. The sneer on the other man's face grew wider.

"We will do whatever we like. Your royal highness," he drawled.

Even through the haze of pain, Aeryn heard the words and comprehended them. No one was supposed to know they were out of the palace. Somehow she didn't think they were men sent by her father to get them back.

"And who might your noisy friend be, your highness? Mayhap I could find a better use for that sweet mouth of hers."

_Please, _thought Aeryn furiously. _Don't say the wrong thing._

If he tried to act gallant and claim she wasn't important in a bid to make them release her, she sensed the men would have no compunction about killing her right here and now. Miraculously, Duncan got it. "She's the daughter of Teyrn Cousland. Touch her again and I'll see you hung, drawn and quartered."

"The Dragonslayer? One of the richest men in the country, by all accounts. I'd bet he'll hand over everything he owns to get you back, hmm?"

"My father will kill you, cur," spat Aeryn, and received another vicious punch, this time to the gut. The pain was incredible. Duncan struggled with all his might, but he couldn't break free of the thug's grip.

"All men die, girl. But my death won't come at the hands of some noble. If your father does come for us, well..." he drew his sword and slid the blade gently over Aeryn's throat, nicking the skin and drawing more blood. "The famed Couslands will be two members short."


	10. Kidnap and Rescue

**Chapter Ten – Kidnap And Rescue**

**Dragon Age 9:55**

**The Royal Palace, Denerim**

"So you were the last person to see them, Willa?" asked Aedan quietly. The serving maid had been summoned up to their chamber, and she was looking terrified.

"Y-yes, your grace. At least, I think I am. His highness asked me to fetch some water for the young lady. When I returned, he left with Ser Reingold, while the Lady Aeryn returned to the palace. I haven't seen either of them since."

"This gets us nowhere," stormed the queen, hands locked in a firm grip upon the armrests of the chair she sat in, as if she was liable to leap up and strangle someone at a moment's notice.

"We need to find out more, it'll only help with the search," pointed out Alistair. A knock came at the door.

"Enter!" barked Anora, and the captain of the guard strode into the room, an old soldier by the name of Hartson. He knelt before the king and queen.

"Your majesties. I have done as you commanded. All gates leading out of the city have been shut and locked. My men are trying to restore order, there are a fair few citizens who don't appreciate what's going on."

"They can complain all they want. No one enters or leaves until my son is found," said the queen, her voice like the crack of a whip.

"And Aeryn," said Aedan.

"Don't get me started, Aedan, it was probably your daughter who came up with this ridiculous idea of leaving the palace!"

Aedan had enough. "It's all Aeryn's fault? For all we know it could be Duncan's damnfool idea of a joke!"

"Let's all remain calm," said Alistair. "Arguing will get us nowhere. Captain, how fares the search?"

"Not well, your majesty," admitted the guard commander. "Most of my men are trying to keep the peace. The rest are searching, but there aren't enough of them. You know what Denerim is like. There are a million different alleys and boltholes and hiding places. It could take weeks to search the entire city."

"If it takes weeks, then those gates will remain locked for those same weeks. Do you understand, captain?" snapped Anora.

"Yes, your majesty," said Hartson.

"Aedan!" shouted someone. Before he could reply Leliana burst into the room. Her face was as red as her hair, which was wild and wasn't in its usual neat style. Aedan held her hands.

"What is it?"

"It's Darien," she said. "I went to make sure he was safe and I can't find him either. Both our children have been taken!"

Aedan felt his knees grow weak. His greatest fear had come to life. He forced himself to remain upright, reining in his fears and horror and reasserting his iron grip over his emotions.

"Here's what we do. Leli, you take Baskerville. See if you can get him to track down their scent. Hartson, you get some men and do the same with every Mabari hound we have in the royal kennels. Willa here will give you some of the prince's clothes to use. Go now."

They left. Aedan turned to the royal couple. "Anora, I think it's best if you remain within the palace and direct things from here. Alistair and I will take separate teams of palace guardsmen and search on our own. We'll start from the gardens, and look for any sign that could point our way."

"Right," said Alistair. Anora gave a curt, sharp nod.

"But before we leave, I have to send off some messages. I think it's time to call in a few favours. Anora, you summon a mage and have him contact the Circle Tower. Ask for my son, Rolann."

"Rolann? What do you need him for?"

"Rolann's the best mage in the entire country. He might know a trick or two to speed things up. I hope he does...because if I have to raze Denerim to the ground to find my kids, Maker knows I'll do it."

**Secret Hideout**

"I don't believe this!" yelled Scar. "What do you mean they've locked every gate?"

"The city guard have closed every gate leading out, and there's huge crowds shouting in front of each one. We'll never be able to get out unseen!" said Tattoo defensively.

"Something gone wrong?" said Duncan. "You'll never be able to get away with it."

"Shut that kid up," said Scar, without even looking. Tattoo went over to where Aeryn lay on the floor chained to the wall, and kicked her in the ribs. She would have screamed if she had the strength to do so.

"She didn't say anything!" yelled Duncan, outraged. He was bound hand and foot as well, but with rope. He was allowed to sit on a chair and the bonds were not as tight.

"I know," said Scar. "Spilling royal blood is a great crime. Noble blood however...there's too many bloody nobles around anyway. Every time you mouth off or try any funny business, your friend here gets it."

Duncan shut his mouth tight with a snap, his eyes blazing with anger. Aeryn was thankful for that. Even breathing hurt terribly.

The kidnappers had dragged them to another abandoned building, a long way from the crowded Market District. It used to be the headquarters of the Alchemists' Guild, before an experiment gone wrong had set the whole hall ablaze and sent the whole gang of loony bastards scurrying for cover. Now it was a charred husk, just one of the many empty hiding places scattered around Denerim. They were being held in an underground chamber below the main hall, under heavy guard. Apparently Tattoo and Scar weren't the only ones in on the scheme.

There were about ten people in the room with them, with more occupying the hall above. From overhearing snatches of huddled conversations, Aeryn pieced together their plans. The Alchemist Guild was originally intended as a temporary hiding place, before they could be smuggled out of the city, the guards had locked down every exit. She suspected their parents had a hand in this.

"The boss is not going to like this at all. What do we do now?"

"We stay put and wait for further instructions. This place is relatively well hidden and if need be, easily defended. We keep our heads down and look for another way out of the city. The guards can't find every last exit."

Duncan was looking at her anxiously. She did not even dare to turn her head and look at him for fear of incurring further punishment, but she could feel his gaze upon herself. He was worried, that was plain. Yet as Aeryn lay on the hard, cold ground and prayed for the pain to stop, she couldn't help but feel that somehow everything was going to turn out all right.

_Father's coming. Nothing can stop him._

**Royal Palace Courtyards**

Baskerville seemed to understand the gravity of what he was tasked to do. Instead of his usual playfulness, he started tracking down Aeryn's scent with single-minded determination, starting from the palace gardens and paying no heed to the hundred other distractions that would have delayed him on any other occasion. Leliana followed close behind, hoping and praying that it would work. She had changed into her battledress, fairly worn and old now, and much to her chagrin a little tight, but still serviceable. As usual she had her great recurved Orlesian longbow on her back, and an array of knives and daggers tucked away in her clothing. It didn't matter if she or Aedan found their daughter's kidnappers first. Heads were going to roll.

According to the serving girl Aeryn and Duncan were last seen under this apple tree. She hadn't said anything about Darien though. Baskerville had sniffed all around the roots and grass, then dashed off with a bark. Leliana hurried after him.

The hound took her on a circuitous route, mainly along the palace walls and behind bushes. Clearly the children had not wanted to be discovered. He stopped in front of an old door hidden in one section of the wall, barking loudly. Heartened, Leliana braced herself and pulled open the door with all of her strength. The rusty hinges screeched in protest. Peering into the gloom, Leliana could make out a set of stairs leading down and away into the darkness.

"Are you sure this is where they went?"

Baskerville barked his reassurance.

"Then lead the way, _sil vous plait._"

They crept along the damp passageway, Baskerville with his nose to the ground, Leliana with one hand on her dagger. When they finally emerged in an abandoned warehouse, she could not help but be amazed by the audacity of her children.

"They went to so much trouble just to get themselves in trouble. After we rescue them they're going to be mucking out the horse stables and dusting the armoury for months!"

She recognised where Baskerville was taking her, along a road that led to the Market District. She passed crowds of people, talking angrily about the gridlock and the city quarantine. If she didn't find the kids soon there would be a revolt on their hands.

Her heart sank when Baskerville took her first up one street, then another, then going round in circles, and finally come to a stop in front of a fruit trader's stall, whining miserably and scratching his ears. Plainly the thousands of different smells and scents from all the goods and rubbish in the market were burying Aeryn and Duncan's trails.

"It's not your fault, Baskerville," said Leliana dully, patting him on the head. He had gotten her to the market, but she hadn't the slightest idea where to go next. After a while groups of guardsmen poured into the district, struggling to hold back their own teams of barking Mabari. They weren't faring any better than she had.

Leliana tried to hold back her tears. Two of her children were gone, and for all her wealth and power there was little she could do to bring them back. Sweet, solemn Aeryn, who could look so beautiful in the proper clothes but preferred to roam around Highever in boiled leather and mail, sword in her hand in imitation of her father. Wild little Darien, always up to some mischief, quick to flare up in anger and be brought to tears but just as quick to start laughing again. She loved them with every fiber of her being. There wasn't a waking moment where she didn't think of her children, and the pain of losing them was almost too much to bear.

She clenched her fists and pushed away her grief and rage. Leliana of Orlais was not some helpless noblewoman, resigned to displays of hysterical emotion at a crisis. She had shot down dragons and killed darkspawn with nothing more than broken arrow shafts. Before she met her husband, she had been on missions that made battling the Blight look easy. If she couldn't find two (okay three) children in one city she might as well pack in her bow for good.

"Come on Baskerville. Let's start searching."

**Denerim City Walls**

It had been a couple of days, and nothing had turned up. The city was on the brink of revolt. Alistair and Leliana and Aedan had combed the Market District with the hounds with little success. Anora refused to say a word to the various ambassadors that had been imprisoned in the palace by the quarantine and had demanded hourly reports from the embattled Captain Hartson, whose men were working around the clock to keep order. The unfortunate Ser Reingold had been stripped of his arms and armour and been confined to a cell in one of the watchtowers. If Alistair hadn't overruled Anora he would have been missing his head as well.

All in all, it was a relief for Aedan to hear that Rolann had ridden nonstop, day and night from when he had received his message, and was at the gates.

"Father!" he called, the eye of every guard on the walls on him. "I came as soon as I could." He was telling the truth. The fine black stallion he was mounted on had undoubtedly been a steed in great condition, but now looked as haggard and worn as a farmer's pack horse.

"It's great to see you, son!" yelled back Aedan from the top of the main gate. "Hold on, I'll get these open for you." He turned to Hartson beside him. "All right, open them up, and make sure no one else gets in or out."

Hartson saluted and barked a command to the guards below. They pushed back the crowds of people who were milling around, hoping to escape the city. Rolann abandoned his horse and struggled his way through the tide of humanity, the guards slamming the gates shut as soon as he entered the city. Aedan dashed down to meet him.

Rolann was wearing black, travel-stained robes that were splattered with mud and soaked with rainwater. He looked pale and exhausted, but there was a fire in his eyes that had not been put out. Aedan clasped his wrist.

"Are you all right? Do you need some time to rest?"

"I'm fine, father," said Rolann, beginning to walk quickly towards the palace. "I can rest once we find Aeryn."

Aedan followed him, feeling more hopeful. Rolann was just seventeen, but Aedan was not exaggerating earlier when he named his son the best mage in the realm. First Enchanter Cicero and the rest of the Senior Council might have the benefit of long years of experience, but for raw magical power Rolann was in a class of his own. With his abilities it wouldn't be long before they got Aeryn back.

**Secret Hideout**

"Funny sort of clothes you wear, girl," said one of her captors, idly sharpening his sword. In the previous couple of days since they had been taken the kidnappers had apparently decided their prisoners weren't going to be much trouble and fewer of them remained in the small, cramped underground chamber. They preferred to stay upstairs in the ruined hall. While this meant Aeryn could not overhear their plans, it did mean there were less eyes watching her. Although even if she could somehow escape and take them out there wouldn't be anywhere to go but up to the guildhall.

"I thought highborn ladies wore silks and suchlike. You dress like a forest ranger. Maybe his royal nibs is lying about you being the Teyrn's daughter. Maybe you're just some whore he picked up in the city, eh?"

"Even whores dress better than her," said the other guard dismissively. The first guard chuckled. There were only two of them there. Duncan had fallen asleep, but Aeryn found sleep difficult. Of course, she wasn't sitting on a chair like him. He had also been given rather more food and water than she had.

Aeryn refused to answer. She hadn't said a word since she had first been knocked down in the theatre. She wasn't about to give them the satisfaction.

"I wouldn't put it past this boy prince," grunted the other guard. "Word gets around. I heard he fathered a bastard on some serving maid around the palace. The queen got rid of it on the quiet. And he's what, thirteen?"

"You fathered a bastard when you were twelve, Harrick you old git," said the other guard.

"Aye, that as may be. But I weren't a prince now, was I?" the first guard replied, cackling.

"You're lying," said Aeryn, in a low, quiet voice full of hate.

"She speaks!"

"Duncan would never do something like that," she went on.

"Poor stupid little girl. You don't know much about your little boyfriend, do you?"

"Aw stop winding her up Boyd. She's in love! You remember love, dont you?"

"_I loved a maid of summer fair, with the light of gold in her hair,_" sang Harrick noisily. "Then she kicked me in the balls and I stabbed her in the face and then I got thrown in jail and wound up here. Bugger your love."

Aeryn said nothing.

"Look, you've scared her into shutting up now."

"Maker be praised."

"Bugger this for a game of soldiers. I'm away to piss."

"Don't trip and break your neck."

He got up and left the little room. There was only one of them left now. Aeryn studied him carefully. Harrick was a young man, barely out of his teens, with a ripe crop of pimples decorating his face. He had lank brown hair and was armed with a short sword. He didn't look very dangerous. Back home she had fought other boys who were of a similar weight and height. However she had always done so under her father's eye, and no one dared to injure the Teyrn's daughter when the Teyrn himself was watching.

Her kidnappers had stolen all the things she had bought from the market, but they had missed the knife she hid in her boot. It was hopeless though. Even if she somehow managed to get it in her hand, she was still chained to the wall. She didn't know how much time had passed, the thugs had brought her bread and well water just once. Her ribs still hurt even while eating. Harrick burped, scratched himself, and dozed off. Her jerked awake and looked around warily, as if Aeryn and Duncan could have disappeared in an instant. He settled himself back on his chair and closed his eyes again. After a while he began to snore, his loud great whistles drowning out Duncan's.

_Where is Father? He should have found us by now, what's taking him so long?_

Aeryn wanted to go home. She decided she had enough of Denerim. She wanted to be back in her airy little room in Castle Cousland, curled up on her bed and reading a book. She wanted to walk around the castle yard with her sword in her hand and hack the training dummies to bits. Her father had given her the sword himself, made from dwarven-smelted steel. It was strong and light and sharp, and her most favourite possession in the world. She wanted to climb her father's back and ride his shoulders like she did when she was much younger. She wouldn't even mind sitting still while her mother brushed her hair, or play at monsters-and-maidens with Darien.

It seemed as though she could hear him now, her annoying little brat of a brother. Surely she had to be going mad, there's no way Darien could be anywhere near...

It was a good thing she had become accustomed to silence after all this time. Because when a small trapdoor she had barely noticed began to creak and rise, it was all she could do not to cry out.

"Aeryn!" hissed her little brother in a loud whisper. "Is that you?"

She shot him a burning glare that he knew very well, the one that meant quite plainly _Shut up you idiot! _She jerked her head towards the snoring form of Harrick. Darien crept towards her, not making a sound. She saw that his feet were bare and dimly remembered something her mother had told them once. No matter how quiet you were, the scuffle of leather on stone was still distinguishable to anyone on watch. He bent down close to whisper in her ear and Aeryn couldn't help noticing he was indescribably filthy.

"I've come to rescue you, Ryn!"

"Did you bring a hammer to break these chains, genius?"

"I - oh. No, I didn't."

"Get Duncan out first."

"But he's tied up too."

"I've got a knife in my boot. Take it, cut him free and go and get daddy. Hurry!"

Darien pulled off her boot and removed her knife. He tiptoed over to the chair where Duncan sat snoring, and placed a hand on his mouth. The prince awoke with a start.

"MMmff! Mmmrmgh! Mmmmf?"

"_Shutupshutupshutup!_" whispered both Darien and Aeryn as loudly as they dared.

Duncan watched with round eyes as Darien sawed away at the ropes tying him down to the chair. It was a small knife, and the kidnappers had used a lot of rope. Aeryn was sure that any second Boyd would come back down the stairs, or that Harrick would wake up and kill them all. But neither happened. The Maker was listening to her prayers after all.

Darien got one arm free, then the other, and bent down to saw away at the ropes around Duncan's legs. They had used less rope there, and it only took about half a minute, but for those thirty long seconds Aeryn had her heart in her mouth. She was sure she could hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs, or a change in Harrick's breathing...

Duncan finally stood up, and nearly fell over, not having moved his limbs for days. He had to lean on Darien just to make it to the trapdoor.

"I swear I will return for you, my lady."

It was all Aeryn could do not to yell at him to hurry up. Darien tugged on his arm, and they disappeared. She sagged with relief. Now that her brother knew where she was, it was only a matter of time before she would be rescued.

Boyd finally staggered down the steps. He had a flagon of wine in his hand and was singing merrily.

"Harrick! Wake up Harrick ye stingy bastard, never let it be said ol' Boyd never shares his drink with you..."

He saw the empty chair and dropped the flagon with a crash. The wine spilled out and began to run over the dusty flagstones.

"Oh ****," he said, and sat down very suddenly on the floor.

Harrick woke up with a yawn, saw the empty chair and nearly choked.

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know," babbled Boyd. "I had me eye on the stairs all the time, no one went in or out!"

Harrick grabbed Aeryn roughly by her chin. "Where's the prince?"

Aeryn didn't say a word.

"To hell with you," grunted Harrick, drawing his sword. "I should just kill you now and get out of here."

**Denerim Marketplace**

Leliana rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve some of the tension in them. She had been searching all over the market and its surrounding neighbourhoods with Baskerville for the past few days. She stopped every person she saw, asked them if they had seen her children or the prince. Every time she had received a shake of the head and a muttered apology. By now most of the people knew that Duncan was missing, although the announcement of the reward for information leading to his rescue was not doing anything to improve Anora's temper. Virtually every other blonde boy in the city had been paraded in front of the queen by hopeful reward-seekers. Some were even girls. The dungeons would have been full to bursting with fraudsters if the queen had her way.

Morosely she decided to head back to the palace. She hadn't eaten or slept for the entire time, and it was beginning to take its toll. She wasn't as young as she once was. She hoped Rolann was on his way. His magic might be more effective than all the ground pounding she was doing.

Leliana pushed past throngs of people as she made her way back to the palace. Denerim's folk mostly stayed indoors, but for some reason ever since the gate lockdown they'd taken to roaming around the streets. It was a powder keg, and if they didn't put an end to this the spark might be fothcoming.

She was so used to seeing boys who looked like Darien that she almost walked past the next one without a second glance. He was the right height, but barefoot, and was struggling manfully to support an older boy, apparently too exhausted to walk by himself.

_And blonde...the other boy is blonde..._

Before Leliana could turn, Baskerville bounded forward, barking happily. In the next instant he had bowled over the two boys and was licking the younger one's face for all he was worth.

"Bask! Stop it boy!" yelled a high-pitched voice, one Leliana knew and loved.

"_Darien?_"

"Mom? Mom! Look, I found Duncan! And I know where Aeryn is!"

Leliana didn't hear his words, so overwhelming was her relief and joy. She rushed forward and gathered her son up in her arms, tears running down her face. Darien's clothes were caked with all kinds of mud and filth, his face was covered in dog slobber, and he smelled like an overripe cheese. She didn't care one bit, and showered him with kisses.

"Mom, let go!"

"Darien...oh Maker, I thought I'd lost you forever. Oh thank Andraste and the Maker you're safe."

"Mom," said Darien urgently. "Duncan's hurt, we need to get him back. And Aeryn! I know where she is!"

"You know where your sister is? Is she alive?"

"Yes, but I think she's in trouble! We have to go now!"

"Where is - no, forget it. Let's get both of you back to the palace as quickly as possible. Then we'll go get Aeryn."

Leliana threw Duncan's arm over her shoulder, and Darien took the other. They sped back to the palace, with Baskerville bounding by their side. A detachment of guards tried to stop them at the gates, but Leliana screamed a string of Orlesian curses at them so loudly they jumped backwards. She didn't stop until she was at the chamber door.

Aedan had just returned with Rolann, and the king and queen were hearing his proposal.

"The magi of the Tower don't exactly have tracking spells, as such. What I can do is to cast a spell of detection, which will be made easier if I have something of Duncan's, something he values. I can then narrow it down to his general area of about a block or so, and from there we can start searching."

"How long will it take?" demanded Anora.

"I've never done it before, to be honest. Maybe half a day."

"We might not have half a day," she seethed. "Hartson tells me the city is about to blow up as it is."

"It's still our best bet," said Aedan, backing up his son.

"Please do what you have to do, lad," said Alistair. "Get my boy and your sister back no matter what it takes."

Rolann was just about to bow in reply when a crash made everyone look to the door. Leliana had flung it wide open, and she came into the room dragging two boys behind her.

"Aedan! Dare's safe, and he knows where Ryn is!" said Leliana. "We found Duncan too!"

"You mean I found Duncan," said Darien, but he didn't say anything else because Aedan lifted him up and spun him around in the air, laughing like a storm. Anora had been seated in a chair on the other side of the room, Alistair beside her, but it seemed a mere second before they were by Duncan's side.

"Duncan," sobbed Anora. There had finally been a crack in the ice. Alistair was beaming, if his smile was any wider it would split his head in half. They helped their son to his feet.

"I'm fine, really. We need to get Ryn back. They could kill her!"

"WHAT?" thundered Aedan. "Who took both of you?"

"It's all my fault," said Duncan in a rush. "I suggested we go out and tour the city. We went to the theatre, and were kidnapped by a couple of men. They threw hoods over our heads and took us away to this underground room somewhere. Please, we need to hurry. They've hurt Aeryn and I don't think they really believe she's the Teyrn's daughter. They might have killed her once they know I've escaped."

"What have you done?" yelled Rolann. A sudden fury came upon him, and before he knew it he had lashed out and punched Duncan right on the jaw, knocking him to the floor.

Everyone was stunned, except for Anora. "Guards. Throw this man into the dungeons and keep him chained," she said in a low, deadly voice.

"I...didn't mean..." stammered Rolann, horrified at what he had done. Duncan was five years younger than him. His father had always told him the strong who bullied the weak were the most despised of all men.

"Guards. Now," said Anora, her eyes burning a hole through Rolann.

"No! Stop it right now, we need to find my daughter!" said Leliana, rushing forward to stand between Rolann and the queen.

"Leliana, if you interfere I'll have you chained as well. The penalty for striking one of the royal blood is death."

Calmly, Leliana unlimbered her bow, drew an arrow and aimed it straight at Anora's face. "Touch my son and you'll die," she said simply. To her credit Anora didn't flinch, but merely drew her lips back in a sneer.

"ALL OF YOU, SHUT UP AND BACK OFF!" bellowed Alistair. Startled, Leliana's hand slipped and Aedan had just enough presence of mind to grab her hand and force it upwards, the arrow speeding away into the ceiling where it lodged itself into a wooden rafter. A second later and Leliana would have had to add regicide to the list of her crimes.

The king didn't seem to notice. "This is absolute madness, arguing while a young girl is in danger. Duncan, where is she being held?"

"I don't know father, they never took my hood off."

"I know where she is!" exploded Darien suddenly, then lowered his eyes as everyone turned to look at him. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. I can take you there."

"Let's go boy," said Aedan, grabbing his hand and running out of the room, followed closely by Leliana and Rolann.

"Such _audacity,_" fumed Anora.

"We'll deal with it later," said Alistair, also hurrying out of the room. "Right now there's a girl to save."

**Secret Hideout**

"Where is he, girl?"

"I don't know," said Aeryn, and got a punch for her trouble. She bent over double as far as the chains would allow.

"I'm not going to ask you again. Where the **** did he go?"

"I don't know," she said, and was kicked in the thigh. She bit her lip until she could taste blood, but she would not scream. She refused to give them anything at all.

"I say we kill her and make a run for it," said one man fearfully.

"What if she's really the Teyrn's daughter? We'll all be sent to the gallows!"

"You idiot, we're already dead for having lost the prince! I say we leave her here and run. Cousland won't care about going after us once he gets his daughter back."

"Oh, and you're sure about that?"

"Quiet!" cried Scar. "We need to stay calm. This girl is the only thing that might buy our safety. We'll take her to another hiding spot right away and lay low for a couple of weeks. The king's got his son back, he'll have to raise the gates sooner or later. Then we make a run for it."

"Okay. Okay."

That was when everything went dark.

"What the hell?"

"I can't see!"

"It's the middle of the day, what's going on?"

"Keep calm, keep calm you maggots! Someone light a Makerdamned torch!"

Aeryn heard the scrape of flint as a tinderbox was struck. She heard the rush of air, and the sound of the fire as it flared up, and felt the heat of the torch. But it was still pitch black. The cry of terror went up again, louder and longer than before.

In the darkness where no one could see her, Aeryn bared her teeth in a fierce grin.

"This is black sorcery! One of those bloody mages..."

"Shut up all of you! Harrick, stay with the girl. Allardyce, Hughes, Bruce, go up to the main hall and warn the rest. The rest of you, don't make any sudden movements! Just shut up and listen, no one can get past us!"

They obeyed Scar's command, but maybe they shouldn't have. When everyone fell silent, they could hear clearly what was going on in the hall above them. Cries of terror, the clash of steel on steel, the gurgling cries of dying men. A great fight was taking place above them.

"Hold," commanded Scar, trying to keep them calm. "This room is small. Even if we can't see, we can hold it. Just attack the first thing that comes through the door."

Aeryn noted that the scarred man was all that was keeping them together. If she could only kill him, the rest would drop their weapons and run.

The noise from upstairs suddenly stop. There was an eerie quiet, broken only by the terrified heavy breathing of half a dozen men. Then the door was kicked open, letting a tiny bit of light to pierce the magical darkness. All Aeryn could see was a big man in armour, wielding a longsword. The thugs screamed, from mixed fright and rage and charged him.

"AERYN!" roared the man, coming forward with no fear whatsoever and beheading one man with a single strike. Her father had come at last.

Another man sneaked into the room, his black hair a wild mess, beads of sweat on his face. He carried no weapon, just a stick of wood. Another of the kidnappers rushed him, trying to make short work of his killing. The man made a complicated gesture with his other hand, and thrust his staff towards him. The air around the thug suddenly shimmered, and a second later he was encased in a solid block of ice, his terrified eyes staring out at the mage. Calmly her brother Rolann whipped his staff around and shattered the ice statue into pieces.

Aeryn could have cheered, but she was suddenly grabbed by her hair and her head bent back. The cold steel of a dagger was laid across her throat. Harrick stared down her father and brother, who had gone as still as stone. The rest of the men were already dead, or worse than dead, including Scar. Her father had stabbed him right through the groin, and a foul stench filled the air as his bowels had let go at the moment of death.

"Take another step and she dies, my lords," said Harrick, making the last word a curse.

"If you hurt her you'll die slowly," declared Rolann.

"I'm a dead man anyway," replied the brigand. "But seems to me I hold all the cards. I want safe passage out of this city, with a guarantee no one will be sent after me. Only then you'll get your bloody girl back."

"Give me my daughter and then we'll talk."

"You must think I was born yesterday. The second I let her go you'll gut me."

"I just want to talk."

"Did you kill the archdemon by talking it to death too?"

"Enough of this," snarled Rolann, raising his arms. Harrick dug the blade in deeper.

"I see so much as a twitch of your fingers mage, and the girl dies."

Aeryn wished there was something she could do to break the stalemate. Her father and Rolann were finally here, yet they were being stalled at the last hurdle. But as long as Harrick held that blade to her throat she didn't dare to say a word.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the same trapdoor her brother had used beginning to rise again. But it was old, and the rusted hinges would certainly alert Harrick unless she did something.

"Harrick!" she said suddenly, trying to sound like a frightened little girl as much as possible. "Let me go and my father won't kill you. Please!"

"And how will I know that for sure, girl?"

"He used to be the Warden Commander, he's never broken an oath. Please, I just want to go home!" she wailed, forcing tears into her eyes. Aedan looked puzzled.

"Aeryn," he said, trying to move closer. But Harrick immediately pulled back on her hair harder, shrinking backwards.

"I told you, back off!"

_Just a few more seconds, _thought Aeryn desperately. She couldn't see the trapdoor any more, but she had caught a glimpse of familiar red hair.

"I'm not going to swing for this, I'm not! Now back off before I - ARGH!"

The twang of a bowstring and the hiss of an arrow in flight had preceded Harrick's scream of pain. It hit his hand with a resounding thud, making him drop the dagger. Quick as a cat Rolann leapt forward and smashed his staff into the side of Harrick's head. He staggered away from Aeryn and crashed to the floor, knocked out for the count.

"I knew you were there mom," muttered Aeryn tiredly. She felt exhausted all of a sudden, likely from the relief that her ordeal was over. "I saw you."

Leliana pulled herself up from the trapdoor into the room and knelt down by Aeryn's side. "My poor sweet girl," she whispered, stroking her hair and noting the cruel bruises and torn clothing. "Maker, what did they do to you? You're safe now. It's over."

"Make sure he's alive," said Aedan to Rolann. "I want to question him." He went over to his daughter, worry etched on his face.

"Aeryn are you all right? Did those bastards do anything to you?"

"They kept me in chains and kicked me around a little, but nothing I can't handle," she said, trying to smile.

"Did they try to rape you?" he asked.

"Huh? Oh," she said, remembering the talk her mother had given her. "No daddy. They were more interested in Duncan."

"I'm going to have a word with that boy," said Aedan grimly, bending down and raising his sword. The old chains broke apart quickly under his blows. Leliana helped Aeryn to her feet, and then both her parents hugged her tight.

"I knew you'd come for me," she said when they had pulled away.

"You were right," said Leliana. "You had us all so worried, darling. Your brother even came all the way from the Circle Tower to help get you back."

"Hey little sis," said Rolann, coming over and giving her a hug. He'd trussed up the unconscious Harrick with some rope and left him near the stairs.

"Thanks for saving me."

"This? Ah it was nothing," he said, smiling. "I'm just glad you're safe."

"Let's get the hell out of here," said Aedan, picking up Harrick and shouldering him in a fireman's carry as if he weighed no more than a sack of grain. "I want a Master to take a look at those bruises. You'll need lots of rest Aeryn. Aye, and maybe better training. When we get back to Highever I'll teach you how to use the sword myself. If I can't train my girl to defend herself properly, who will?"

_Highever, _thought Aeryn as she was led up the stairs, supported by her mother and brother. _I'm going home. _

**Castle Cousland**

**Highever**

"You'll never guess how I found you," said Darien excitedly, kicking his feet. Aeryn looked up from her book. Her younger brother had dashed into her bedchamber and flopped onto her bed.

They were back home in Highever, after settling things at the palace. Duncan was made to apologise to her in front of everyone, which he did with good grace. The king apparently needed Aedan to remain in the capital, but he'd insisted on escorting his family home first. The gates had finally been open, to mock cheers from Denerim's disgruntled mob. "It's not even as though they wanted to go out!" Aedan had exclaimed, seeing absolutely nobody deigning to step out of the city once the gates had been thrown back. Rolann also had came along with them for a quick visit before he had to return to the Tower. Aeryn did notice there was some tension between him and Duncan at court, but thought little of it.

It was a nice ride back, even if her mother and father never once let her out of their sight. Aeryn didn't feel much like running anyway. The doctor had examined her injuries and pronounced a verdict of cracked ribs. She found it difficult to walk or sleep, but she was feeling much better. Her father had come to see her before he left.

"How are you doing kid?" he said, sitting at the foot of her bed.

"I'm bored. When can I start my training? I feel okay now."

"Not quite yet. Master Alanna says you haven't fully healed up. You should be fine when I come back."

"Where are you going?"

"The king needs me to sort something out. You can start training once I return."

"Promise?"

"I promise," he said, kissing her on the forehead. "Be a good girl and listen to your mother. I love you Ryn."

"I love you too daddy," she said. Her father had smiled and left quietly. Hours later she watched him ride out of the castle, with a retinue of knights following him. Then she had settled down with a good book, which was interrupted by Darien barging into her room and jumping on her bed.

"You're supposed to leave me alone," she complained.

"Don't you want to know how I rescued you and Duncan? Without me you'd both be dead! Someone owes me!"

"Go ask the queen for mountains of gold and a castle then, but get out of my room."

"Aw come on! It's a great story!"

"Oh all right," relented Aeryn, setting her book aside. "Tell me."

Darien told her how he had spied the two of them creeping along the walls after getting rid of Ser Reingold. Curious he'd trailed them, intending to tell Leliana if they were up to something. When they'd disappeared down the passageway he'd followed behind, later emerging in the sunlight of the Market District.

"From there it was easy! You two were holding hands and generally acting disgusting..."

"We were not!"

"A blind man could have tracked you two. Then you went in to that theatre place and I waited by the door, but those huge guys suddenly showed up and dragged you away! They were really fast, but I just about kept up with them. Then they disappeared into this old, ruined building."

"The abandoned Alchemists' Guild."

"Well yes we know that now."

"So why didn't you tell mom and dad right away?"

"I wanted to! But I...kinda...forgot how to get back to the palace."

Aeryn couldn't help it. She started laughing, and then her ribs hurt, so she had to stop.

"You are so dumb! The palace is huge, it can be seen from anywhere in the city!"

"I know that! But it was confusing, there are so many different roads and alleys...I went around in circles for hours."

"So what did you do?"

"I had to sleep in a doorway for two nights. I think a horse crapped on me."

Aeryn had to stuff her fist into her mouth to stop laughing again. Darien went on with a dignified air.

"So I staked out the place, like a real Warden would have done. I kept watch on everybody going in and out and everything. Then I figured there had to be more than one way in and out of there, because of everything dad told us about Denerim. You know how he says what Denerim's built on is mostly more Denerim?"

"Yeah."

"So I had a poke around in the house next door, found a tunnel leading from that to the Guild, and saved both your lives. You're welcome."

Aeryn leaned over and socked Darien in the arm.

"Ow!"

"Thank you for saving my life. I'll make it up to you," she said affectionately.

"Yeah well, you'd better," said Darien, edging away from her just in case. "When you and Duncan get married and I need a place to crash, I'll drop by the Royal Palace okay?"

Aeryn had picked up her book again and waved lazily at him.

"Sure, whatever," she said, not really listening. "Now get out of my room before I beat you up."


	11. The Wedding

**Chapter Eleven - The Wedding**

**Dragon Age 9:55**

**The Rose Gardens of the Royal Palace**

Aedan thought about it, then reached for another glass of Gwaren Red and savored it slowly, relishing the taste of the wine on his tongue, the way it warmed him as it went down. There wouldn't be many bottles in the depths of the Deep Roads, and Alistair had cleaned out the royal wine cellars in honour of the occasion. The wine he was drinking had been laid down by Maric's grandfather, and it was a miracle it had survived both the Orlesian invasion and the Blight. Somehow that made it taste just a little bit better.

"You look lovely honey," he said, and gave Leliana's hand a squeeze. She was indeed. Leliana had put her hair up, was wearing a gorgeous off-the-shoulder dark blue satin dress with lace edging, and a huge sapphire hung on a fine silver chain around her neck. Aedan liked her in blue, it went with the colour of her hair very nicely.

"Thank you dear. Ooh, is that Gwaren Red? Hand it over please."

Aedan poured her a glass. Leliana pushed it away and took the rest of the bottle, and blew him a kiss. Aedan shook his head and settled for the glass.

He'd never exactly been a big fan of weddings. The first one he remembered going to was his brother Fergus's, way back when he was a lad. Being the snot-nosed little punk that he was he hadn't liked it much, being forced to dress up in itchy clothing and wait long hours in the chantry. Oriana had looked radiant though, and Aedan couldn't remember Fergus looking happier before then. Aedan spent a few moments wondering idly about the similarity in the names of the wives of the Cousland brothers.

"Teyrn Cousland, I am honoured and grateful that you have invited me to your daughter's wedding. May the Maker bless their union, and may their first child be a masculine child," said a lordly Arl, wearing an ornamental suit of armour.

"Thank you for your kind wishes...er..."

"Arl Brasi, your grace. Arl Luca Brasi."

"Ah yes of course."

"I wonder, your grace, if we could take a few minutes to discuss a certain piece of business about Warden incursions into my lands...?"

Aedan frowned. "What? No, my lord, not right now. Maybe later."

"As you wish, your grace," said the Arl, leaving the table.

Aedan turned to his wife, who had already finished the bottle of Gwaren Red and was calling for another.

"Why are all these guys besieging me with requests and asking for favours now? On the day of my daughter's wedding?"

Leliana's brow wrinkled in puzzlement. "I have absolutely no idea."

Aedan went back to considering all the other weddings he had attended. There weren't that many, not having many relatives. He'd been best man at Alistair and Anora's wedding of course, a smallish affair conducted hastily after the Battle for Denerim. Some of the buildings had still been on fire. He'd been there when Oghren had gotten hitched to Felsi, mostly to stop Oghren from losing his nerve and running away. Then there had been his own. Aedan had absolutely no doubt most of the older ladies and a number of Arls had gossiped behind his back when they'd boldly brought out little Rolann to be a guest at his own parents' wedding. But Leliana hadn't cared one bit that the rest of the guests thought she had gotten pregnant and given birth before she was married. She dandled Rolann on her knee, fed him bits of the wedding cake, and laughed along with him as he flung it everywhere. Aedan thought he'd already loved her with all his heart, but that gesture meant the world to him.

When the first twinges of the darkspawn corruption had begun affecting him, Aedan thought he'd never last long enough to see Aeryn get married, having given up Rolann for a lost cause and permanent bachelorhood. But he'd fought on, battling excruciating pain and the constant, never-ending nightmares that threatened to invade even his waking hours.

It had all been worth it. Aedan had never seen his daughter looking this beautiful and happy. She was beaming and talking non-stop to her friends, laughing at every joke and blushing prettily at some of the saucier comments. Leliana had helped her pick out an absolutely exquisite pure white wedding dress that showed off her slim yet muscled frame, and her long copper coloured tresses fell to the small of her back in fiery waves. She looked every inch the princess he'd always known she could be.

"She looks so beautiful, doesn't she?" said Leliana dreamily, rubbing Aedan's arm.

"Aye. You did a wonderful job dressing her up. Didn't she say she wanted to wear armour at her own wedding?"

"Aedan, she was seven."

"So she was."

A couple tables over Aeryn managed to out-chug one of her knights, who fell off his chair, unconscious from alcohol poisoning. She slammed her goblet on the table and wiped her mouth with her sleeve, to a rousing round of cheers.

"Of course, some things never change..."

"She gets it from your side of the family, you know."

Aedan closed his eyes for a moment, letting the gentle string music and the smell of the summer roses in the night air wash over him. The royal rose gardens were an inspired choice to hold the wedding. A team of men had worked on it for a month setting up the decorations, tables, tents and pavilions. A group of mages from the Circle Tower had been summoned, and commanded to ensure good weather for the day. Even after nervously explaining they had no control over the weather, Anora wouldn't take no for an answer. The mages must have done something right, because it was as balmy a summer night as anyone could hope for.

Big names had been invited, from all over Ferelden and Thedas. The absolute cream of high society. King Bhelen hadn't been able to attend, but he had sent a delegation of solemn, richly clad deshyr lords and ladies, looking dignified in their armour and clothing lined with real gold and other precious jewels. A number of Dalish Keepers had made the long trek from the Brecilian forest, the firelight reflecting intriguingly off their tattooed faces as they sipped wine and talked quietly among themselves. Aedan had recognised Lanaya, the young elf who had stepped up to lead her tribe after Zathrian had paid for his past crimes. She was doing rather well for herself, and her tribe had never been happier. A group of representatives from the City Elves were also there, including their magistrate, a quiet, soft-spoken old man. Almost every Arl and Bann was in attendance, as well as the Revered Mother of the High Chantry, the Senior Enchanters of the Circle Tower, the Knight-Commander of the Templars, and the Warden Commander Ser Wilder with a squad of his finest new recruits. Aedan had briefly shaken his hand and moved away, not wanting to talk to him if he could help it.

Then there were the nobles whom he had never seen before, dignitaries from Orlais, merchant princes from Antiva, warrior lords from Nevarra, and even a pair of Qunari from Par Vollen. Aedan made a mental note to speak to them, he intended to inquire after Sten, whom he had not seen since the Blight. It looked like the world had come to Denerim. A cunning and ruthless overlord could have attacked the wedding and taken over the world with little opposition, but security was extremely tight. Aedan had seen to it himself. And if an attack did occur, some of the deadliest fighters in the world were present. Aedan was certain he spotted the Guildmaster of the Antivan Crows, although the small, unassuming man had avoided eye contact. Maybe Zevran could confirm it for him, although the last he'd seen of Zevran the elf was naked in a fountain surrounded by three giggling young women.

The ceremony had started precisely at noon, while the sun was high in the sky. The guests had assembled in neat rows in the garden, the families of the bride and groom seated at the front, where Duncan was waiting with the Revered Mother of Denerim's Grand Chantry. Aedan's closest friends and comrades were also accorded places of honour, Zevran wearing an elegant tailored suit and an easy smile, Oghren with what suspiciously looked like tears welling up in his eyes. He'd wished that Wynne and Sten and Shale could have been there too, but fate had decreed otherwise.

The Crown Prince was dressed in cloth of gold, matching the golden hair that touched his shoulders. The sunlight made his hair shine, and it glinted off the hilt of his sword in its golden scabbard, a gift from his father. The overall effect was quite dazzling. He looked a little nervous, but that was understandable. Aedan vividly recalled getting jittery on his own wedding day.

Aedan was dressed in a simple grey tunic, no armour, no weapons and he couldn't remember the last time that had happened. Finally Aeryn emerged from the tent in which she had undergone some last-minute touch ups. Her head was veiled in fine white lace, and the train of her gown rustled on the grass. The sight of her took his breath away, and Aeryn saw him beaming his secret smile, the one only she ever got to see.

"Oh my dear girl...if only you could see yourself now. You look every bit as beautiful as your mother on her wedding day," said Aedan, holding her hands and kissing her on the forehead, careful not to crush the lace. "Are you ready?"

"Yes father," she said, taking his arm.

"This is the proudest moment of my life," whispered Aedan. "And yet it's a touch melancholy as well. You're no longer just my little girl, you're a woman grown, wife to a prince and mother to be of the future kings and queens of the country. All my life I've dreamed of making this come true for you, Aeryn."

"Thank you father," she whispered back, as they began to walk past the rows of guests. "I'm so glad you're able to give me away here today."

"I wouldn't have missed it for anything." They reached the front of the aisle, where Duncan stood waiting. Aedan let go of his daughter and sat down beside Leliana. He couldn't help it, and wept quietly as the Revered Mother intoned the words of the service. When Duncan and Aeryn had recited their vows in the sight of the Maker and he raised her veil to give her their first kiss as husband and wife, the cheers that erupted were deafening, and sparked a celebration that had lasted for hours. The sun had set, and rack after rack of torches were lit, and still it went on. Aedan couldn't remember having shaken so many hands and drunk so much wine since the victory celebrations after the Battle of Denerim.

Duncan and Aeryn had the first dance, to beautiful string music performed by the best bards and minstrels money could hire. Then Aedan had stood up and danced with his daughter. He hadn't done it in a long while, but it came to him easily as the guests looked on. They'd done their own dance of sorts before many times, sword drills in the courtyard of Castle Cousland mostly, and this was little different. Then Aeryn had danced with the king, and Aedan with Leliana, and the rest of the guests who felt like it were invited to join. Feeling a little out of breath, he took her hand and returned to their table.

Rolann came up to join them at their table. Despite Leliana's most withering glare he'd persisted in wearing his somber black robes again, although they were his best ones, picked out in silver patterns. He'd made an effort to brush his hair and looked very handsome indeed. Aedan had noticed more than one young woman surreptitiously eyeing him as he'd mingled with the assorted guests.

"Father, mother. May I join you?"

"Of course dear. Take a seat." Leliana moved one place over, and Rolann sat down between the pair of them.

"Enjoying the party, Ro?" asked Aedan.

"Huh? Oh yes, it's been very interesting. All these people!"

"I've seen a few girls giving you the 'come hither' look," teased Leliana. "Wouldn't you rather be talking to them? Your brother's made quite the head start, although I'm pleased Bann Erin's had the sense to keep him firmly under her thumb."

Leliana quite liked Bann Erin, a cute young woman with pretty blonde hair, yet who was about the furthest thing you could get from a vacuous airhead. She ruled her lands with an iron fist and had a reputation for being an intelligent and eloquent debater. Aedan decided he liked her too. Darien had his fair share of fun, but it was time for him to get to grips with an actual relationship.

"No mother, not really. This is Aeryn's night. I just want to let her have the best time of her life."

"Talking to a girl or two won't ruin Aeryn's wedding lad," said Aedan. A thought occurred to him. "You're not...you wouldn't be...you do like girls, don't you?"

"Aedan Cousland!" snapped Leliana at once. "That is absolutely none of your business, and even if our son happens to like boys you will accept that and love him just the same, do I make myself clear? We're in the Dragon Age now, for heavens' sake. What Age are you living in?"

"Of course I won't hate him or anything, Maker's beard Leliana, what kind of man do you take me for?" said Aedan defensively, looking askance at his wife.

"Well there was that business with Zevran - "

"That elf laid a hand on my...nether regions. Without asking! Anyone would have punched him in the face!"

"Father! That's not what this is about. I'm not...I mean I do like...girls. But thank you anyway," said Rolann quickly. A couple of the guests were glancing in their direction.

"You're welcome dear," said Leliana, holding his hand.

"I just don't feel much like socializing now, that's all," went on Rolann. "Maybe later."

"Speech! Aedan, it's time for your speech!" called Alistair from somewhere near the centre of the garden. His face was red with wine and good cheer.

"Hope I don't make an ass of myself," said Aedan, standing up.

"Even if you do, you have had a lot of practise," said Leliana automatically. Aedan kissed her cheek and went to join Alistair, to general applause. Those who hadn't passed out drunk or were engaged in serious conversation were looking at him expectantly. Aedan coughed, a little self-consciously. He'd made his fair share of speeches over the years, but they were mostly soldier's speeches. He doubted this crowd would appreciate a loud shout of "Let's kick arse so hard their children will feel it!"

He looked at his daughter and her husband, who were holding hands at their table and whispering to each other. They looked so happy together and comfortable with each other. His heart went out to them, and he found the words necessary to express what he was feeling.

"My lords and ladies, I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for being in attendance tonight. I know you have travelled great distances to honour the king and myself, our children, and our families. I am humbled, honoured, and extremely grateful for your presence."

The crowd murmured appreciatively.

"This is at once the happiest and saddest time in a father's life. For those of you with daughters, no explanation is necessary. For those of you without, no explanation can suffice. Aeryn is now the wife of the Crown Prince Duncan, a good lad and a credit to his parents. I wish them every happiness that life has to offer. May the Maker bless and protect them both. Thank you."

Aedan bowed to general applause, and was pulled aside by Alistair.

"Lovely speech."

"Thanks. What's all this then?"

"I need to have a word. Away from the missus."

"Mine or yours?"

"Both, really."

"What about all the guests?"

"I'm sure no one will notice if the King of Ferelden and his Teyrn of Highever sneak off for a quiet smoke in the bushes."

"That's absolute rubbish, I quit years ago."

"Not even for Antivan cigars?" said Alistair, winking. Aedan felt his mouth go dry. A genuine Antivan cigar? He hadn't had one in years, not since Leliana was pregnant for the first time and given all of his away, even his secret stash that he thought no one knew about.

"Well...maybe just the one," said Aedan. Alistair laughed and led him back to the palace.

"Sweet Andraste's arse, this is bloody marvellous!" said Aedan, blowing a smoke ring.

"Good eh?" said Alistair with some satisfaction, puffing on his. "The wife doesn't like them, but Zev got some for me. It'd be a crime not to mark the day's occasion with one of these."

"It was no trouble," said the elf modestly, his lit cigar dangling from his fingers. "A little gold, a few whispered words, perhaps a flash of my dagger...and my good friend the King of Ferelden can celebrate his son's wedding in luxury."

"Bet that wasn't all you flashed," said Oghren, stubbing his cigar out and lighting a new one. "Hur hur hur."

"My dear Oghren, if you wanted to see more you only need to ask."

"Maker, not this crap again," muttered Aedan. Zevran laughed and took a long drag on his cigar.

The four of them were on a palace balcony overlooking the gardens. From their vantage point it looked like some kind of beautiful, ethereal dream, the torchlight illuminating flashes of colour as soft music mixed with the low buzz of constant chatter. Aedan was enjoying more than his cigar. It had been some time since the four of them had gotten together, and they'd just finished a long catch up session on the respective state of their lives.

"Felsi's been moaning at me to come back home more often," said Oghren to the room in general. "Little Ayden's grown into a big strapping lad now. I heard he went a few rounds in the Proving Grounds and even won a couple of them. Takes after his old man."

"You should send for him," said Alistair. "I could give him a place at court if he likes."

"Nah I think he needs a few more years in Orzammar," said Oghren. "But thanks. I'm sure Felsi would like that."

"Funny thing," mused Zevran. "I appear to be the only man in the room who isn't a Grey Warden. I will never understand the Ferelden fascination with you people. In Antiva they are largely ignored."

"Speaking of which, it's the reason why I wanted to talk to you," said Alistair. "The Grey Warden issue."

"What Warden issue?" asked Aedan, frowning. Then a thought struck him and his mouth fell open. "Oh no. No way. It can't be!"

"I'm afraid so," said Alistair sadly. "The nightmares have returned, and they've gotten worse. I sometimes feel the urge to...nevermind. Enough to say that it's not pleasant. And there's a terrible, uneasy sensation right beneath my very skin. It's like an itch that can't be scratch, as if something's trying to get out."

Aedan felt his blood run cold. What Alistair had described were the very same symptoms he had been experiencing for a few weeks. The taint had at long last taken him too.

"Alistair...not now. Not you. Please."

"I don't think I have much of a choice," said Alistair gently. "Remember, I've been a Warden longer than you have. It was inevitable, really. And when I heard you were planning to go to the Deep Roads...well, what better way to die then at the side of my best friend?"

"I can think of several," said Zevran. "Being crushed by an elephant at the moment of orgasm during a threesome, alcohol poisoning after consuming the wine collection of the Empress of Orlais, after having sex with the wife of your most hated enemy..."

But Aedan knew beneath his offhand demeanour, Zevran was affected by this piece of news. He looked worried and had put out his cigar.

"You know," said Oghren, ignoring Zevran. "If you two are talking about charging headlong into the Deep Roads, I'm going with you. I'm getting too old. Some days I pass out after drinking two barrels of ale. It's pathetic. I'd rather die swinging at some darkspawn bastard than in my bed."

"My friends," said Zevran. "All this talk of death at a wedding is highly inauspicious."

"Zev, you're a professional assassin," Aedan said. "I wouldn't think you'd be bothered by it."

"You know, I'm glad I never joined that order," said the elf. "I intend not to die for many years yet."

"I'm counting on it," said Alistair. "I tried to teach my son everything he needs to know, but he is going to need help. Please, Zevran. Will you watch over my son and Aedan's daughter when we're gone?"

"As I've said, I do not like this talk of death..." muttered Zevran.

"I'd march into those roads much easier knowing you're helping to protect my daughter," said Aedan. "Those kids need the best, Zev. That's you. We've been friends and comrades and fought and killed side by side together for so long. Will you do us this last favour?"

Zevran's lip trembled, and he blinked his eyes rather quickly. "It would be an honour," he said at last. Aedan smiled and embraced him.

Alistair clapped Oghren on the shoulder. "What about you, Oghren? Have you felt the taint as well?"

"Not me," he said.

"Then why - " began Aedan, but Oghren silenced him with a raised hand.

"I signed my own death warrant when I choked down that foul muck of a initiation drink. Sooner or later I'm going to bite it. Like I said, I'm getting older. If I let you two go off into the Roads without me to stop you from falling into some chasm without killing a single darkspawn I'll never forgive myself."

"What about Felsi and Ayden?" asked Alistair.

"Felsi will understand. I hope," said Oghren. "As for my boy...well, I've managed not to piss away all of my money. Got more than enough to set him and his mother up for the rest of their lives. He's a good boy. I want him to know his father died a hero."

"You're already a hero, you old sod," said Aedan affectionately. He was very much touched by Oghren's decision, and Alistair's as well. He'd been contemplating a lonely solo affair in the darkness, killing a few 'spawn before dying. Now with his old friends beside him once more, at least he wouldn't be alone when it happened. And they'd take out a hell of a lot more darkspawn.

"Thanks Cousland," said Oghren gruffly. "Stone, I don't want to think what our wives are going to say."

They fell silent for a little while, imagining the horrors. Zevran chuckled.

"That is why gentlemen I never even thought about getting married. Or having children, for that matter."

"You can't pull that one on me elf, I'd bet me axe there's a trail of little pointy eared buggers from here to Antiva."

"If so, they've never bothered me. Unlike what your wives are about to do."

"Leli already knows," said Aedan, shrugging. "It wasn't easy, but she came to terms with it."

"Anora doesn't," groaned Alistair. "She's not stupid, she suspects something, but I haven't told her exactly what. It's going to be a hell of a conversation."

"Felsi's just going to have to accept it," declared Oghren.

"Do you really believe she'll just nod her head and smile?"

"...yes."

"Try again Oghren, you didn't sound quite so sure of yourself that time," needled Zevran.

"You know Alistair, you have to make sure you declare the inheritance openly. It's really important. Otherwise Ferelden might have another flare-up of some idiot noble trying to take over the throne."

"Yes, I've thought about that," said Alistair. "Anora will rule as Queen. This will give Duncan and Aeryn plenty of time to observe the proceedings of court without being too actively involved. I hope this will be the best way to prepare them for their eventual futures."

"Sounds like a plan, mate," said Aedan. He looked at all of his friends. "Fellas...I'm really grateful you're doing this with me. All of you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"No more wine for Cousland, he's getting sappy," said Oghren, reaching for the last cigar. Quick as a cat Aedan snatched it away and lit it up himself.

"You are quite welcome, Aedan," said Zevran, bowing. "I served the elder and it was the best decision I have ever made. I will serve the younger as best I can."

"Code of Brothers-in-arms," said Alistair. "We came into the Wardens together, more or less. Seems right we should leave it together as well." Aedan gave him a hug, quite unashamedly.

"What say we return to the party?" suggested Zevran. "They can't have finished all the wine."

Feeling better than he had in a long time, Aedan followed his friends back to the gardens.

It had been a long, tiring journey from Denerim all the way to the foot of the Frostbacks. Although the presence of the royal family as well as the Teyrn's meant that security was paramount and they never lacked for any material comfort, it was a gruelling journey nonetheless. Travelling to the Frostbacks meant riding across the breadth of the country, across the Bannorn. It was pleasant, Aedan supposed, to stop and feast at a different Arling every night. Still, he was getting a little tired of the rich foods as each Arl and Arlessa tried to outdo the last. Aedan mostly spent his time speaking to the local nobles and officials and got them to pledge their loyalty and fealty to Duncan and Aeryn.

The court had taken Alistair's announcement with much sorrow. During his years as monarch Alistair had grown into a strong and just king, tempering Anora's efficient but harsh policies with his sense of mercy and reason. So much so it was openly said in the winesinks and marketplaces that the Blight had been a small price to pay for the coronation of both Alistair and Anora. After all, the darkspawn had only burned down the city and slaughtered a lot of people. It wasn't as though it had never happened before.

Alistair had made it clear that Anora would continue to rule as Queen, which went a long way to dispelling her protests over his decision. Even though Duncan had come of age, he had readily agreed to allow his mother to continue ruling while he waited and observed. Alistair had been greatly relieved, but the part of Aedan's brain that would always remain a cynical suspicious bastard wondered if the boy would ever be ready for the responsibility of ruling Ferelden.

His children were old enough and wise enough to realise their parents would appreciate time alone together, and Aedan was mostly spending his days with Leliana. They either rode together or remained within their cabin, talking about all the things they had seen and done, or enjoying the closeness of each other's bodies and saying very little at all.

Aedan knew the instant the travelling party had arrived at the Frostbacks. The air was sharp, cold and clear here, and the wind never ceased its endless dance. There was always the noise of the rustling of the treetops everywhere they went. Aedan had not been to the Frostbacks since venturing within to find Rolann, yet he still recalled every single thing about the place as if it was yesterday.

Alistair had called for a halt to the march. Orzammar was mere hours away, but the sun had set and it was too dark to see the winding mountain path. He bade the men make camp in a forest clearing and continue the journey tomorrow. Aedan had retired early, after a cup of hot spiced wine with the king. Leliana drowsed in his arms, tired out after their lovemaking. Aedan had stayed awake long enough to stroke her hair and kiss her brow before falling asleep himself.

He was having a pleasant dream for once, instead of the usual horror-filled nightmares. He knew it was a dream because he was back in Castle Cousland with Leliana, but his father and brother and Fergus and his family were all there as well. Even Rolann, Aeryn and Darien were present, all grown up. They were eating dinner in the big hall he remembered so well from his childhood, and everybody was talking and laughing.

"So Aedan didn't take the Blood mage's offer to use the life of Lady Isolde to perform the ritual?" asked Eleanor, her hand on her mouth. His mother looked like how he remembered her best; regal and stately, but always exuberant and ready for a laugh.

"No," said Leliana. "He insisted we make the trip all the way to the Circle Tower. What was it you said darling?"

"I just didn't want Eamon to wake up and find out his wife had died," said Aedan. "Not if there was something I could do about it."

"But when you got there, you found the Tower held more than you bargained for, eh?" asked Fergus, squeezing Oriana's hand. His brother's face was unlined, there wasn't a trace of grey in his hair, and there was a calm and peace about him that he had lost ever since the night of Arl Howe's treachery. Even though it was a mere dream, Aedan was pleased he could see his brother in the company of the family he had lost.

"Yes!" said Leli excitedly. "Horrible abominations roaming the halls and corridors, the mages running for their lives. It was terrible! But we arrived just in time. Ah, if Aedan had not set off for the Tower we would have been too late to save the Circle."

"Good thing you did, mom," said Rolann, raising his goblet in salute. "Otherwise I wouldn't be a Senior Enchanter by now." His son looked every bit the mage with his wild hair and black robes.

"You see, son?" said Bryce, his eyes alight with pride. "Doing the right thing may have consequences you might never expect. It will never be the easiest course of action, but it will be the one that changes many lives for the better."

Even though he had held the title for twenty years now, Aedan would always think of his father as _the _Teyrn Cousland of Highever. Bryce was how Aedan remembered him, hale and hearty to the last, his large coarse warrior's hands manipulating the fine silver cutlery with surprising deftness. He kept a neat goatee which Aedan had emulated, and was dressed in a fine yellow tunic that Eleanor had made herself.

"I know father," said Aedan. "I'll never forget what you taught me."

"Leliana dear, Fergus tells me you're an amazing bard," said Oriana. "You simply must sing for us after dinner." Aedan had only known Oriana for a few years, a kind, gentle woman with charming manners. He had resented her at the time for taking his big brother away from him, yet as he grew older he had come to appreciate how foolish that was. One of the regrets he harboured was that Leliana never had the chance to meet her, although they were making up for lost time now.

"Mom not only sings, she plays instruments and kills bad guys," said Darien, grinning. He was clad in the simple garments that he wore on the day Aedan sent him off to serve as a squire under Arl Connor of Redcliffe. His youngest son had only been a middling swordsman, but he bested all comers with the bow and had been by all accounts a most diligent and polite young man. Aedan had never been prouder.

Leliana patted him on the arm. "I'd be delighted to," she replied to Oriana.

"Aeryn my dear girl, what's this I hear about you beating Ser Gilmore in single combat?" asked Bryce of his granddaughter. Aeryn's cheeks flamed with colour. Aedan noted without surprise that she was still in her wedding gown, gloves, silk train, flowers in her hair. He supposed he was so delighted at seeing her getting married his brain wanted to preserve the image for a little while longer.

"It was nothing," she muttered. "Only a sparring match, and with blunted swords at that."

"My captain of the guard beaten by my fair granddaughter," said Bryce, shaking his head. "The girl takes after you Aedan."

"Stop it, Bryce," chided Eleanor. "I happen to think it's wonderful. As you may recall I wasn't a frail flower myself when you married me."

"Not an Orlesian wallflower at that," said Leliana quickly, and Eleanor laughed.

"Leliana dear, I must say you have completely changed my views of Orlesians. Aedan, you are very lucky to have found her."

"I know mother," said Aedan, smiling at Leliana.

"Son, could I have a word with you, in private?" asked Bryce.

"Sure father," said Aedan, standing up and leaving the room with his father. Behind him, Rolann and Darien were playing with Oren.

"And if I do this...look at that, your toy knight can float around!" said Rolann, demonstrating. Oren whooped and clapped enthusiastically. The little boy's life had been tragically cut short by a Howe guardsman's blade, yet Aedan had avenged his life tenfold. Only concern for his mother had prevented him from trying to kill all of Howe's men single handedly. Oren had been a playful child, always asking Aedan to teach him how to swing a sword or the best way of hiding stray kittens from his mother. Aedan knew that he was in a better place, but he still recalled the taste of true despair when he had flung open Fergus's chamber door on that night.

"That's nothing little cuz," said Darien dismissively. "Look at what I've got for you...genuine sword of truthiness, that is." Oren immediately hurried over and grasped it.

"Wow. That is awesome!"

"Be careful dear," called Oriana nervously. Darien waved at her.

"Don't worry Aunt Ori, I'll make sure he doesn't hurt himself."

"Is that...it is! Darien you jackass, you gave Oren my sword!" yelled Aeryn suddenly. Darien fell over in his chair scrambling to get away, with Aeryn in hot pursuit. Bryce laughed as he led Aedan out into the ante chamber. It was quieter here, with a window that afforded a splendid view of the castle grounds. Bryce went over to it and looked out appreciatively.

"This was my home for many years...I've always wanted to give it to my family. Alas, my mistake was trusting a man who should not have been trusted."

"No one blames you father," said Aedan.

Bryce didn't reply for a while. Then he sighed. "Sometimes I blame myself. Poor Fergus...he never really was the same after Oriana and Oren were murdered, was he?"

"No father," said Aedan. "He ruled for many years with strength and wisdom, but the spark of the old Fergus was gone. He never took another wife. But he was a Teyrn you would have been proud of."

"As you are, my boy," said Bryce, placing a hand on Aedan's arm. "I'm very happy you found a good woman and settled down. You really love her, don't you? And she clearly loves you. Not many men or women can truthfully say that about their spouses. The pair of you have done a magnificent job with Highever. What wouldn't I give to walk its streets once more."

Aedan wasn't surprised Bryce knew all this. It was his dream, and it made sense that everyone would know what he knew.

"I tried to do my best," said Aedan.

"I know, lad," said Bryce. "We can only hope your children do the same. And I have no doubt they will."

"They're good kids," said Aedan. "The best, really. I'm so proud of them, all of them. I love them so much."

"Now you know how I feel," said Bryce. He looked a little wistful. "I'll be seeing you soon lad, you know that. A little sooner than I would have liked, in truth. I wanted you to have more time with your family."

"So do I, but my fate was written down. You wanted me to become a Warden, father. You made all this possible. If not, I never would have met Leli."

"Yes that's true," said Bryce, rubbing his chin.

"I never got to thank you for that, father," said Aedan. "Leli...she's amazing, she really is. She's a wonderful mother, and my best friend. I wouldn't have been able to do half the things I did if it wasn't for her by my side."

"Tell her that then. Make her see there is still much she has to do in the world of the living," urged Bryce. "She will want to come with you. You know this. She loves you as much as you love her, and she cannot contemplate living on while you are gone. Very much like Eleanor, in fact. But you know she is needed elsewhere. Aeryn and Rolann...even Darien. Great challenges and dark times lie ahead in their futures. Your children need their mother now more than ever."

"Why father? What's going to happen?" asked Aedan fearfully.

"I can't tell you," said Bryce regretfully. "All I can see is there will be a period of great strife in the land once more. And our family will be integral to this struggle, as it has been in the past."

"Oh that's just great. Is this all just happening in my head?" asked Aedan exasperatedly. "Or is this real?"

Bryce laughed. "Of course this is taking place in your head, lad. But why on Earth should that mean it can't be real?"


	12. To Crush a Rebel Lord

**Chapter Twelve – To Crush A Rebel Lord**

**Dragon Age 9:55**

**Near The Gates Of Orzammar**

"Up! Up, Cousland! Your King commands it!"

Aedan opened his eyes blearily. Beside him Leliana mumbled and rolled over, clearly not interested in waking up. Aedan staggered outside his tent, yawning. He usually wore nothing but smallclothes to bed, and the icy wind hit him like a thousand spears. They were high up in the Frostbacks, and despite the season it would always be close to freezing here.

Alistair was astride a magnificent destrier, clad in furs and splendid armour. He was flanked on either side by a knight carrying the banner of House Theirin, and looked as fresh as a daisy. Aedan rubbed his eyes and blinked again. The royal party had made camp in a small clearing off the path leading to the gates of Orzammar last night, and despite the early hour cooking fires had already been lit. Several people were already awake, talking quietly as they went about their duties. Perimeter guards, weary from a night of standing watch, were sitting around a large fire as fresh men were sent to replace them.

"Are you bloody mad?" yelled Aedan, making a couple of people glance over at him. "I'm freezing me balls off in this weather! I've barely slept!" He shifted from one foot to the other, trying to prevent himself from freezing solid to the ground.

"Oho," said Alistair, his eyes gleaming. He didn't appear perturbed by Aedan's sharp words, the whole realm knew they were closer than brothers. "Busy night with the wife, I take it?"

"It's none of your damn business!" shouted Aedan, shivering. "What's all this about?"

"Can't a king talk to his best friend before paying an official visit to the King of Orzammar?"

"What about breakfast?"

"I asked the cooks to wake up early. Come _on _you great big fool, I'm itching for a ride!"

"You'll have to wait," grumbled Aedan, returning to his tent. "Some of us need to put clothes on."

"Don't take too long!" called Alistair.

Aedan stumbled back into the blessed warmth of his tent. Leliana had awakened and was sitting up, blinking her eyes sleepily.

"Good morning darling," she said, yawning widely. "Excuse me. Was that Alistair?"

"It was," said Aedan, after giving her a kiss. He opened up a chest and pulled on warm woollen breeches and underclothes. "We're nearly at Orzammar now."

Leliana didn't say anything. She had become more quiet and distant the closer they had gotten to the dwarven kingdom, although their nights were filled with more passion than was usual. Aedan knew the reality of his departure was sinking in, and he despaired to see his wife so affected. He sat down on the bed and put his arms around her.

"Leli," he said, burying his face in her hair. He loved its scent, that distinctly feminine flowery smell that he had come to associate with the woman he loved. Leliana said nothing, and tried to pull away. Aedan held her closer.

"You know I have to do this," he said. "I thought we worked it out."

"I know it," said Leliana. "I know the reasons, I know why you have to go. I know if you don't, terrible things will happen. I don't care, Aedan. I love you. I can't just let you go off like this."

Aedan cradled her gently, fighting the emotions that were welling up in him. The blanket had fallen away from Leliana, revealing her naked body and bare chest. Like him she preferred to sleep with very little on, finding warmth in each other. He wanted nothing more than to climb back into bed and make love to his wife again, and hold her until the end of the world. But he couldn't. His king was waiting for him, and Aedan Cousland had always done his duty.

"I'll talk to you later," he said, regretfully breaking his embrace. "We'll work this out. I promise. I love you Leliana. So much."

Leliana stared at him in silence, her eyes dark. Her face was an unreadable mask. Aedan began wearing his leathers and mail. He wasn't about to put on full plate in this weather. He buckled on his sword and turned to leave.

"Aedan."

"Yes dear?"

"_Moi aussi, je t'aime. Toujours et pour jamais._"

Aedan gave her a brief smile and went out to meet Alistair.

"What took you so long?" complained Alistair. They were riding up the path, the wind whipping at their faces and making the banners flap in the wind.

"It's Leliana," explained Aedan. "She's not handling the impending reality of my departure too well. I think it finally hit home now we're so close to Orzammar."

"Anora made some noise as well," said Alistair. "But she calmed down once she realised I was handing over all power to her."

"You were expecting that right?" said Aedan, shrugging. "This is old ground, Alistair, but you know Anora has always wanted to rule in her own right."

"I know," sighed Alistair heavily. "And Duncan...he wasn't sure quite how to take it. I'm going to miss him, Aedan. I'll never get to see him take the throne, or have grandchildren..."

Aedan felt a sudden wave of melancholy. He had been thinking the same thing about Aeryn. "Dwelling on these matters isn't going to help," he said, a little gruffly. "Best we get it over and done with instead of dragging it out."

"Anora can be persuaded that this is best for all of us," said Alistair. He looked worriedly at his friend. "Leliana will be a different story. She will insist on following you, Aedan. She loves you too much, anyone can see that. Are you going to let her?"

Aedan frowned. Something about that seemed vaguely familiar. Almost as if he'd dreamed it.

"Dying by her side is what I want the most," admitted Aedan at last. "It would seem fitting for us to fight to the end together, like my own parents did. But as much as I want that to happen, I must make her see our children need her more. It wouldn't be right, or fair to them to lose both their parents at the same time. Especially Aeryn, now that she's going to be queen. She'll understand. We both love each other more than life itself, but we both love our kids even more."

"I'll agree with that," said Alistair. "I'll feel better knowing Leliana will be around if needed. She's about the only person who isn't afraid to stand up to Anora, apart from myself, and even that happens rarely."

Aedan was feeling too morose to tease his friend. They'd arrived at a large plateau where a busy marketplace had been set up, staffed by dwarven traders who weren't allowed to go back to Orzammar. Beyond it loomed the gates, massive and implacable. Aedan gazed upon them resignedly. Once he had walked up to them to try and save all of Ferelden. Now he was coming here to die. Alistair nodded at his knights.

"Time to get back. The cooks should have finished making breakfast already."

They wheeled their horses around and headed back to the royal encampment.

"Where's father?" asked Rolann, reaching for a loaf of black bread. He ate sparingly at every meal. Some might have said austerely. A wealth of food had been provided by the Queen in her royal pavillion, where Leliana and her children had been invited to breakfast, yet Rolann hardly touched any of it. A bit of bread and fresh fruit and he wanted to leave already. He knew however it was unwise to do so in the presence of the Queen.

"I heard a guard say he went out riding with the King. He should be back soon enough," said Darien, in between bites of his sausage. A pile of them were on his plate, along with scrambled eggs, bacon, mushrooms, ham and even a few pieces of cold pheasant from the previous night's dinner. It wasn't unusual, Rolann had seen his brother pack it all away and more on previous occasions.

"That's Alistair...always eager to see more of the kingdom," remarked Anora, sipping from a steaming porcelain cup of freshly brewed tea. "He was so restless those first few years, roaming here there and everywhere. He was almost overwhelmed by the mere fact that he was the sovereign lord of all of Ferelden."

"Alistair has always been humble," said Leliana, neatly slicing a grapefruit into quarters. "It's part of what makes him a wonderful king."

"That is true," conceded Anora. She looked to her right, where Duncan was feeding Aeryn a strawberry off his own fork. "You would do well to heed that, Duncan."

"I know mother," said Duncan meekly. Leliana let her eyes linger on him for a long moment. He was playing the gallant husband this morning, seated beside her daughter. Aeryn seemed happy enough though, and Leliana knew she was smart enough to speak up if anything was wrong.

It was just...Leliana couldn't exactly say what it was, but something didn't feel right about resting all of their hopes on Duncan. He was a well-mannered young man, true enough, but king? She didn't see it. The lad was no Alistair, and besides, she knew for a fact that he and Rolann didn't get along.

Leliana shook her head. Maybe she was worrying too much. After all, Alistair himself had hardly been king material when she'd first met him, when he was about Duncan's age. Given time, he might surprise her yet.

A guard stationed at the pavilion entrance saluted as Alistair and Aedan came in, shaking the snow from their hair and cloaks. They took off their wet clothes and sat down at the table.

"Hello dear," said Alistair. "Sorry we're late, I'm pleased you started without me." Anora patted his hand and ordered a servant to pour him a fresh cup of tea.

"Orzammar," mused Aedan, picking at his food. "I'd have liked to bring you kids here on another occasion. What with one thing and another though...the opportunity never came up. It's an amazing place, Orzammar. You're lucky to get to see it."

"This is where we met Oghren," said Leliana. "And Shale...ah, poor Shale. She would have wanted to be here today."

"Yes. She would," said Aedan sadly. His children looked at each other uncomfortably. Aedan still felt the loss of his golem companion keenly, despite the long years since her death. The rest of breakfast was eaten in relative silence.

Aedan went outside once he was done eating and ambled over to Seth, the master of horse, who was getting ready the royal mounts for the rest of the ride to Orzammar. He rubbed down his own steed, a fine rowan bloodmare. She was a well-trained beast, and was able to recognise him whenever he came near. His horse was another thing he was going to miss, there would be no riding in the Deep Roads. The dwarves didn't ride, and no surface animal would be willing to brave its depths.

She nickered softly and snorted all over his hand. Aedan wished he'd thought of taking a piece of fruit from the breakfast table to give to her.

"Hi dad," called Darien, who was idly tossing an apple in the air. Quick as a wink Aedan snatched at it and gave it to the horse, who crunched it up in three quick bites.

"You could have asked," said Darien.

"I'm sorry lad. Couldn't resist showing off a little. Your old man's faster than you think."

"I know," said Darien, stroking the horse's mane. She whinnied good-naturedly at him.

"Dad, why don't you name your horses? I thought they were supposed to be a knight's best friend."

A thoughtful expression touched Aedan's features. "I don't really know. I suppose it's because a true knight's horses keep dying in battle. It's easier all round if you don't get too attached to them. But sometimes it's hard to keep that in mind. I've had this girl for five years now, and she's a beauty."

"Definitely," agreed Darien.

"Would you like to keep her?" asked Aedan.

Darien gave his father an incredulous look. "Really? I mean, she's your horse."

"So she is. But where I'm going, I can't take her. She deserves a good master who knows the value of a good steed. Someone who would do the courtesy of giving her a name, for a start. You're a brilliant rider, lad. Far better than I ever was. Take her with my blessing."

Darien smiled delightedly, far more pleased with his father's praise than he was with his gift. "Thanks dad. I'd like that a lot."

Aedan sat down on the grass, and gestured for Darien to do likewise. Around them the camp was preparing to up stakes and move out. Tents were being taken down and rolled away, men were getting on horses, the women and children disappearing into carriages, guards sneaking a last smoke. It reminded Aedan very much of an earlier time, when he had ridden to war not as a leader of a small, hunted band of heroes, but a commander of a grand army. No matter how much he loved his home, there would always be something special about camp life.

"Darien. I want you to answer me honestly," said Aedan. His son looked slightly alarmed at his serious tone.

"Sure dad."

"Alright. Are you jealous that your brother will inherit Highever?" said Aedan, his eyes locked on his son.

Darien looked surprised. "No dad, I'm not. Rolann should get Highever, he's always been better at telling people what to do. Besides, he's older than me."

"Aye, but he's a mage. Not too long ago it was the law that mages could not inherit lands and titles. It was one of the first things reversed by King Alistair, as a favour to Arl Eamon. His son had magical ability too, you see."

"Arl Connor's a mage?" asked Darien, shocked. "But he never even mentioned it."

"Nor would he," remarked Aedan. "Connor's a good man, but he's never quite shaken off the scars of that demon possession your mother and I helped drive out of him. He was sent to the Tower just long enough to learn how to control his powers, and never used them again. It was a wrench persuading all the other nobles to abide by Alistair's decree, but we managed it in the end. So you see lad, if it wasn't for the king and I, you would be the rightful Teyrn Cousland."

"I never knew," said Darien, looking away.

"What do you have to say about that?" probed Aedan further. "There's no shame in admitting that you feel you were wronged. I myself once looked at my brother Fergus and thought I could do a better job as Highever's Teyrn."

Darien didn't speak for a few minutes. Then he looked at his father straight in the eye. "But dad...I'm not sure I can be the Teyrn of Highever. I've never had a good head for numbers, or logistics, or...or...any of those things that you said a good ruler has to have. I can hit a target with my eyes closed and ride a horse in my sleep, but the thought of telling everyone at home what to do just doesn't sit right with me."

Aedan smiled. "Well spoken, son. It takes a man to admit his failings. A fool admits to nothing, and suffers greatly for it. You were perhaps a little harsh on yourself, but you were right all the same. Rolann is better suited for the role of Teyrn. It is not a reflection on you. You've always been so much more like your mother in that regard. Leli loved life on the road."

"I want to be a knight. That's all I ever wanted. To ride the paths and see the world and help people. That's the life for me."

"A good knight remembers his vows and uses his strength to protect the weak. Mark you well."

"Yes dad."

"You'll make an excellent knight, that much is clear. You wondered why I postponed your knighting ceremony, I know. The reason for this is because I wanted the king to do it, and I wanted to see it before I left. He'll give you your sword tomorrow."

Darien could scarce believe his ears. There were a fair number of knights in Ferelden, but they usually were sworn into service by the lords and arls whom they served as squires. A mere handful of them were personally knighted by the king himself. There were few higher honours.

"Dad...thanks dad. This means a lot to me."

"I know. That's why I arranged it. So you really have no reservations about letting Rolann assume my seat at Highever? Wars have been started for smaller prizes, and I have no intention of letting that happen."

"I don't," said Darien firmly.

"Even though he's a mage, and a bastard?" said Aedan, his voice lowered.

"It doesn't matter. He's my brother," Darien said, without mentioning that he had felt quite unnerved at the revelation of Rolann's true parentage. Despite his misgivings, he supposed he was telling the truth. He might not have been as close to Rolann as Aeryn was, but Rolann was still his brother and he'd do all he could to help.

Aedan wrapped his son up in a bear hug. "Thank you Dare. You don't know how much it means to me."

"It's okay dad," said Darien, hugging him back.

Aedan let go and looked at the soldiers around him packing up their gear. "You know Dare, as a knight you may be called to fight in a war. You'll get used to camp life then. It's very different from travelling with just a small group of companions. An army on the march isn't just a lot of men walking around. It's like a moving city, almost."

"I know what you mean," said Darien, nodding his head. "Like when you brought down the archdemon and saved Denerim."

"Aye," said Aedan. "But that wasn't the only time I marched in an army. The scholars and bards sing of the Battle of Denerim just because there's a bloody great dragon mixed up in it. No one ever remembers how we smoked Arl McFadden out of his fortress."

"McFadden?" said Darien curiously. The name was familiar to him. "D'you mean that rebellious lord of Greytower?"

"The one and the same," agreed Aedan.

"Surely he couldn't have been half as dangerous as the archdemon," said Darien.

"Oh I wouldn't be so quick to say that," countered Aedan. "The archdemon never killed one of my companions. Of course, it was that utter jackass of a Warden Commander that led to Shale's death. If he hadn't been there..."

Darien noticed his father was clenching his fists. He relaxed and sighed.

"Old wounds. I still miss that great stone bint. She was bitter and cutting and never lifted a finger if you couldn't give her a good reason, but by the Maker she could fight!"

"Tell me what happened dad," asked Darien. He always loved hearing stories, ever since he was a boy and refused to go to sleep unless Leliana told him a tale. She had come up with a new one every night for years, a feat which Darien found more and more impressive as he grew older. But of all the stories he knew, he loved hearing about his father's adventures the most. Aedan had never really talked much about them, but was prone to spinning a yarn or two when he got into the mood.

Aedan leaned back against a handy tree stump and stretched his long legs out in front of him, a good sign. Darien made himself comfortable and waited expectantly.

"You should be able to remember some of this lad. It happened after we'd rescued your sister from those bastard kidnappers in Denerim."

**Dragon Age 9:47**

**Castle Cousland, Highever**

Leliana got on her hands and knees and peeked under the bed. Perhaps not the most dignified of positions for a Teyrna to be occupying, but the sooner she could find Aedan's sword the sooner he'd stop shouting.

"I don't understand it at all," came Aedan's voice from the corridor outside, where he was apparently haranguing a servant. "I left it in the armory this morning. I said goodbye to my son and daughter and now it's missing? Where the hell is it?"

"My lord Teyrn, we're still looking for it."

"Look a little bit faster, would you? I need to leave soon."

Leliana's fingers grasped something hard, and she pulled out the sword Aedan was looking for. She placed it prominently on the bed, so it would be the first thing he saw upon entering the room.

"Leli!" said Aedan, walking in. "Tell me you've found my – oh."

"Yes I did. And please don't shout indoors."

Aedan picked it up and essayed a cut or two. Satisfied with the weight and balance, he sheathed it in his empty scabbard at his hip.

"Where was it?"

"Under the bed."

"How on earth did it get there?"

"I think the kids hid it there for some game, and then forgot about it," said Leliana smoothing down Aedan's shirt, brushing the lint off his shoulders and doing up the buttons that he missed, something she always did despite his protests.

"There, you look decent enough. Now just give me a moment while I get my things."

"Leli, no."

"Don't you talk to me like that Aedan, you know I don't like it."

"I'm putting my foot down, you're not coming along!"

"Are you going to say 'and that's final' as well?" remarked Leliana, frowning. "Or are you going to see sense and allow me to watch your back?"

"Leli, you have to stay home," said Aedan, almost pleading.

"Oh isn't that just patronising," said Leliana, her voice rising. "Don't you think I can handle myself? I've saved your life more times than I can count _monsieur_. Alistair's got you marching off to war – again – and all you can say to me is 'stay at home?' Maybe clean up the place while you're away? Who do you take me for?"

Aedan pushed his hair out of his eyes, trying to find the right words to say. "Leli, you've been at my side almost ever since I had to kill things for a living. You're absolutely right, I'd be dead many times over if it weren't for you. But let's look at the facts."

"Okay," said Leliana, trying to calm herself down. She sensed Aedan was doing the same and she didn't want to get in a shouting match so soon after their recent troubles in Denerim.

"This business with McFadden isn't the same like the Blight. I needed someone like you during those times, that's true. You taught me how to move quietly, how to kill quickly, how to ghost past hordes of enemies who were hunting us down. But this isn't a Blight, Leli. I'm openly marching with one army against another. This is different from what you're used to, from what you know so well. And beg pardon, but it's a situation I'm familiar with."

"That...be that as it may...Aedan, you've commanded one battle! One!"

"Yeah, and I saved Denerim on my debut. Pretty good huh?" said Aedan, risking a grin. But Leliana wasn't buying it.

"I know you're a good fighter Aedan, and you've proven to be a good squad commander, but general?"

"It's not like there's anyone else after we got rid of Loghain. I have to do this, Leli. Don't you believe I can do it?"

Aedan sounded dejected, and Leliana couldn't bear to see the hurt in his eyes. She knew her husband better than anyone alive, and she knew that he wasn't disappointed with her for not believing in him, but with himself for apparently not living up to her standards. She had to make him understand.

"Aedan, it's not that I don't trust you," she said, circling her hands around his waist and speaking softly to take the sting out of her earlier words.

"What is it then?" he asked, doing the same to her.

"Do you think I can sit idly by while my husband rushes headlong into danger? You might be the legendary Hero of Ferelden, but you need my help Aedan. I know what you're like when you fight. You take risks, you push yourself too much, you have this belief in your own immortality that all men share. I worry about you, so much. I know every wife in Ferelden feels the same, and you're definitely a better warrior than all of their husbands, but even that doesn't give me the slightest bit of comfort. You might get hurt or die and I can't let that happen, my love. Not while I live and breathe."

"Leli, listen to me. Please," said Aedan.

"Alright. I will," said Leliana. They had promised each other always to discuss things which they disagreed about in a calm and rational manner. Even if that sometimes wasn't possible, Aedan had always considered her views before making any big decision. The least she could do was to do the same for him.

"I know deep down you're right. And it's not some stupid husband-wife joke, you're really right about what you said. I know I take too many risks and put myself in harm's way at times, and like I said, if it weren't for you and the others I'd probably be dead long ago. But Leli, our daughter was kidnapped. Our son was lost for days. They could have died in Denerim. If Aeryn and Darien had been killed or raped or harmed in any way, I'd never be able to forgive myself. The pain I feel now at even _thinking _of such a possibility is already almost too much to bear. I'd do everything in my power to keep them from getting hurt. Even if it means riding to war without you to look after me, because right now, they need you more than I do."

"Aedan, the kids will be safe here. In our home."

"We thought the Royal Palace was safe. If they could strike there, they could strike anywhere. The only people I trust right now are those who've fought an archdemon with me. Alistair needs Zev, Oghren and Shale on the frontlines, so that leaves you Leli."

"Who's 'they?' What are you talking about?"

"Remember that one bastard who survived when we went to get Aeryn back?"

"Yes."

"I had him...questioned."

Leliana thought about it for a moment. She loathed the very idea of torture, having been subject to it herself. The pain was brutal, but pain was secondary to the soul-crushing fact that your life was dictated according to the whims of morally bankrupt sadists, that your freedom had been cut off as easily as a man shuts a door.

But he had taken her daughter. Hurt her and put her through hell.

"I hope you made him scream," she said bitterly. Aedan's grip grew tight for a second.

"Yes. I did," he said shortly. "And what he told me was very interesting indeed."

"What did he say? Stop being so cryptic Aedan, it doesn't suit you."

"I'm sorry. Apparently the gang of kidnappers the man belonged to was given orders by none other than Arl McFadden."

Leliana's breath caught in her throat. "Could he be lying?"

"He had no reason to remain loyal to the Arl. I made sure of that."

"That son of a whore," she hissed. "I'll cut his tongue out myself!"

"Leli, don't you see why I need you here? The Arl is a dangerous man, far worse than we realised. He might have all manner of schemes working against us. I need someone I can absolutely trust to make sure my family is safe while I go off to kill him. And there's no one in the world I trust more than you. Please keep Ryn and Dare safe from harm. I've arranged for extra security, men I hand picked myself, but at the end of the day it's you I'm counting on."

"Alright, Aedan. Alright. I understand," said Leliana at last. "Just do something for me, if you are able."

"Anything, Leli," he said. "Name it."

"When you catch up to McFadden, when you break down his walls and burn out his men and drag him from his hole like the rat he is...take him alive, if you can. The whoreson hurt Aeryn. I want to be the one to send him to the Maker."

If Aedan felt any misgivings at the violence in her request, he didn't show it. He gave his wife a long kiss before replying.

"Aye, my love. McFadden will die at your hand. I swear it."

It was a journey of many days towards the Arling of Greytower, the home of the rogue lord McFadden. Aedan and his knights rode openly by day, and he relished the chance to ride without fear, instead of the sneaking about that was a necessity during the Blight. Greytower was a rocky, hilly sort of country, and its people were more miners than farmers. It was named for the immense fortress built into the side of a mountain, and its ruling Arls enjoyed the wealth that flowed from its rich seams of gold and other precious metals. As Aedan and his men rode on, his thoughts turned to the task ahead of him.

The Battle of Denerim was one for the history books for a variety of reasons. Of most interest to the scholars was that it was the first such battle in living memory to feature a combined force of Orzammar dwarves, Dalish elves, Circle Tower mages and Ferelden soldiers on the same side. A lot of people had asked Aedan how he had managed to form a coherent fighting force out of such disparate elements. He wasn't really sure. Sheer bloody-mindedness, probably. He just remembered shouting a lot and leading by example, and to his great surprise it had worked.

Soldiers and knights tended to ask him how was it possible to take a city without using siege equipment. Not even Redcliffe, one of the largest arlings, had the engines of war necessary to attack a walled city. The fact of the matter was that Denerim's City Guard and barracked soldiers fought so fiercely the darkspawn dead were piled high against the walls, and they had to use ogres flinging massive rocks at the walls and literally tear them down. The archdemon had also set fire to most of the city and while stone doesn't burn, wood supports and thatched houses certainly would. Although the result was a blackened, hollow shell of a capital, it made the subsequent assault fairly straightforward for Aedan's army. He also had the help of what remained of the Circle Tower, and while a handful of mages couldn't exactly replace a full complement of catapults and trebuchets, they were more than enough to tear down the damaged walls of the city.

The situation today however, was quite different from the one facing him at Denerim.

For one thing, he commanded far more men than he had ever done before, ten full regiments of a hundred men-at-arms each, as well as a mounted force of two hundred knights and a contingent of five hundred archers, most of them elves recruited from the cities. King Bhelen however had flat out refused to send any dwarven troops to assist in what he saw as a human problem.

That was another reminder of how things had changed since the Blight. The last time Aedan had gone to war he had done so against an enemy that was unequivocally evil. Everyone leapt at the chance to cleanse the land of the darkspawn hordes. But not everyone agreed that attacking Arl McFadden was the right thing to do in this instance. The Arl was a powerful man, and his loudly expressed views were gaining quite the following around Ferelden. They had to show that open treason would not be brooked by Alistair's reign, and the King was counting on Aedan for a swift and dominating victory.

The pressure was on Aedan, so when he walked into the royal tent and found himself face to face with the new Warden Commander, he had to fight to keep a reign on his legendary temper.

Warden Commander Ser Thornton Wilder, a knight of impeccable renown. Won his spurs at the age of twelve for rescuing his master from a roving band of darkspawn, fought valiantly at the Battle for Denerim, a veteran of the defense of Vigil's Keep. When Aedan had decided to give up being Warden Commander in favour of becoming the next Teyrn of Highever and settling down with his family, Ser Wilder was appointed his successor to general acclaim. Privately Aedan thought either Nathaniel Howe or Anders should have gotten the job, but the mage flatly refused and Howe was shouted down by Wardens who still remembered the treachery committed by his father. So Aedan had sworn in the new man himself and thought little of it until the recent years.

One of the first things Wilder did upon becoming the top Warden was to push for increased membership. Certainly great numbers were lost at Ostagar, and the defense of Vigil's Keep further hurt the ranks, but Wilder went one step further and proposed recruiting more than just volunteers. Although men and women were signing up to join, it was far from enough in his eyes. That was when he had called for forcibly conscripting wanted criminals into the ranks of the Wardens. Aedan had argued bitterly against it, first opposing the idea because the decision wasn't voluntarily made and also because the good name of the Wardens would be tarnished with recruits of such dubious character. But Alistair had overruled him. He had always felt a stronger connection to the Wardens than Aedan ever had, and agreed with Wilder that the Wardens needed to move from being a small elite force to a sizeable army on its own.

The Arls and other nobles had welcomed the move. Every criminal sent to the Wardens meant one less miscreant to feed in their jails. For those found guilty of violent crimes, the Wardens represented a last chance at salvation, if not redemption. The threat of dying in the Rite of Initiation was less than the hangman's noose. So the ranks had been bolstered, and Wilder had seen to it that they were whipped into shape. Aedan had been forced to admit that he had been far more proactive to hunting down bands of darkspawn, and if his new recruits died in battle it was only what they deserved. Privately Aedan harboured deep misgivings at allowing another man who wasn't the king access to his own private army, although Ser Wilder had always been publicly supportive of Alistair. Aedan had finally given up and went home to raise his kids, and washed his hands of the whole business. Until today.

"My lord Teyrn," said Ser Wilder in his deep voice, rising from his seat. "I heard about the ordeal your family suffered in Denerim. If there is any assistance I may offer, you have but to ask."

It was a polite offer, and fairly given. "Thank you Ser Wilder, but that won't be necessary."

The Commander nodded, and got right down to business without the usual malarkey about asking Aedan if he needed a rest after his long ride. Aedan decided he preferred it that way. The sooner Arl McFadden was brought to heel, the sooner he could go back home to Leli, Ryn and Dare.

"I thought we should begin by going over what we know about Greytower," said Wilder, spreading out a bunch of maps and reports on the table.

"It'll be a tough nut to crack," mused Alistair. "A formidable fortress indeed. We've taken control of the surrounding villages, but the tower is where our errant lord is holed up. It has strong walls, it's well fortified and well supplied, according to my intelligence. A conventional siege will take months, maybe even years."

"It's still our best option," urged Aedan. "Look at the facts, McFadden's alone. Oh sure he's got a few whispers of support, but there isn't anyone else who dares to ride openly to come and rescue him. All we have to do is to surround the fortress, starve them out, and they'll kill McFadden for us once they're down to eating rats and shoe leather."

"That's the thing," said Alistair. "I don't want them to kill him, I need him brought to justice. If we don't drag him out ourselves they'll talk for years that he escaped somehow. I know he's the one behind the kidnapping of our children, Aedan. I thought you'd want to storm the place by yourself."

Aedan sighed. "Mate, nothing will make me happier than slicing the bastard's head off. But I'm not just the Teyrn of Highever now, I'm the general of your army. I have to do what's best for the men. A frontal assault will be brutal. We will losemany lives. A long term siege means no one gets hurt."

"A strange characteristic for a general," commented Ser Wilder. "If I may say so, a commander has to achieve victory by any means necessary. These men know what they are fighting for, they will go into battle willingly. I thought you of all people should understand."

"Now wait just a damn minute - " began Aedan, rising from his seat ready for a fight, but Alistair cut him off before he could say another word.

"Settle down Aedan. Your attitude is commendable, but I'm afraid Thornton is right this time. I need a clear, decisive victory."

"The decision is yours..._my liege,_" said Aedan, glaring at the Warden Commander. Alistair sighed. Aedan only ever made mention of his royal status when he was feeling annoyed.

"Yes it is. Now the light is fading fast and I'd like to give your men a chance to rest. We'll begin the attack tomorrow morning."

"What about fortifications?" pointed out Aedan. "Greytower has some thick walls, and I didn't see any siege equipment while riding into camp."

"That won't be necessary," said Wilder. "I have sought the assistance of a group of Circle Tower mages. Their magics will be more than enough to bring down some of the walls and the gate at least."

"The walls aren't protected against magic, are they?" asked Alistair. The Warden Commander looked uncomfortable.

"Not that I know of," he admitted.

"In other words, they could be and we'll be stuck here waiting for some trebeuchets to be wheeled in from Denerim," said Aedan. "Let's hope not. I'm surprised the Circle Tower agreed to assist, I had the distinct impression a number of their members were strong supporters of McFadden."

"Yes, they've certainly gotten noisier since I freed them from direct Templar control," grumbled Alistair. "You'd think they would have a little more gratitude."

"I have a good relationship with the First Enchanter," explained Wilder. "She has sent some of her most powerful mages to us, trained in battle magic."

"My son's not among them, is he?" asked Aedan sharply.

"Your son's not the only mage in the Tower who has mastered the Four Schools, my lord Teyrn," said Wilder cuttingly. This time Aedan didn't rise to the bait.

"Good to know they haven't been slacking since the Blight," he said levelly. "I assume the security perimeter and the nightwatch has been sorted out to satisfaction? I'd hate for dear old McFadden to send a bunch of assassins to kill us all during the night. Now if you don't mind, I'm off to see Zev and Shale and Oghren."

Aedan saluted the king and left the tent without another word. Wilder stared after him in silence, but even a blind man could have told what he was thinking.

"The Teyrn takes a little getting used to," said Alistair. "Good night Warden Commander. I'll see you on the morrow."

"Your majesty," said Wilder, bowing. He left as well, and Alistair was alone with his thoughts, thinking of the battle and all that would entail by nightfall the next day.

"Stay out of arrow range!" yelled Aedan. The massed ranks halted and held their shields up just in case. One or two men had been hit by a stray arrow that had gone further than most. The castle defenders cheered, and fired off another volley.

No matter how much he tried to tell himself otherwise, it felt a little weird that Leliana wasn't by his side today. She would have known what to do, or failing that said something to make him feel better. At the moment there was precious little about the situation that would have accomplished it.

"Archers!" roared Aedan. An elf in bright chainmail ran up to him and saluted.

"Your grace."

"Can you hit them without them hitting you?"

The elven sergeant shaded his eyes, gauging the distance between his men and the castle walls. Then he shook his head.

"With the crossbows, maybe. Not with the longbows. But even if all my men had crossbows, we haven't nearly enough bolts to pick them off one by one."

"Maker's balls," swore Aedan. "Do what you can then. Try to kill as many as you can. I'll just go and see what the mages are up to. Oghren! You have the command."

"Right you are Warden," said the dwarf, hefting his battleaxe onto his shoulder.

"Don't call me Warden."

"Sure thing Warden," said Oghren merrily. Aedan shook his head and wheeled his horse around in the direction of the main encampment, where he spotted Alistair, Shale, Zevran and Wilder with the mages from the Tower.

"It's going about as well as I expected. The archers are wasting their arrows, our cavalry are sitting around with their thumbs up their arses and the infantry aren't much better off."

"Attacking a castle never ends well," sniffed Zevran. "I would have laid this man's head at the foot of your throne had you but asked. Without charge too."

"I told you, I needed to make a strong statement," said Alistair, annoyed. "Are the spells ready?"

"Yes your majesty," said a mage, a cute young woman with short blonde hair. "We have surveyed the castle's defences and ascertained that it is not magically shielded in any way. A targeted Earthquake spell should bring down a sizeable section of wall."

"Make it the main gate instead," ordered Aedan. "They usually have their strongest defences there. Taking it out of the equation would be a big help."

"Certainly your grace. However, we would not be capable of anything else after casting the spell, at least for several hours."

"As long as you bring that gate down, it will be enough," said Alistair. "How long before you can cast the spell?"

"Thirty minutes your grace."

"Oh good," said Shale sarcastically. "More waiting."

"You can't rush these things...hello, what's this?"

The drawbridge of the main gate had been lowered and the gates themselves were creaking open. A single rider emerged and made straight for the attacking lines. He was carrying the traditional white flag of truce and didn't appear to be carrying any weapon.

"Hold your fire!" shouted Aedan, and Oghren repeated the command. The messenger was allowed to ride up untouched to where they were gathered. Guards forced him off his horse, searched him for weapons and having found none, the man was allowed to kneel before the king.

"State your business," said Alistair.

"I come bearing a message from Arl Roy McFadden to the Grey Warden known as Alistair, styling himself King of Ferelden."

"His Majesty is the true and rightful king," said Wilder, his voice harsh. "You would do well to choose your words carefully, cur."

"It's all one to me," said the envoy, unruffled. "I serve the master of the tower, and Arl McFadden is that man."

"You heard the king, say what you have to say and be quick about it," said Aedan. The envoy's cool demeanor vanished at once upon seeing Aedan glowering at him from under his helm. He cleared his throat and began to speak.

"The arl protests at the intrusion of his lands by hostile armies. He refuses to recognise the Grey Warden as his king and demands that you remove yourselves at once from the sight of his walls."

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen," said Alistair. "McFadden has committed high treason and endangered my son. His days are numbered."

"The Arl thought you would say that," replied the envoy. "He therefore proposes another alternative to prove his innocence; trial by combat of champions. As a nobleman he has that right."

"We're not putting him on trial, he's already damned himself by word and deed," snarled Alistair. "I refuse. Crawl back to your master and tell him to pray for the Maker's mercy, for we will show him none."

The man bowed and left without another word. Aedan opened his mouth, but Alistair got in the first word.

"Don't give me any crap about not taking the offer Aedan."

Aedan smiled. "No mate, I was about to say the exact same thing. McFadden's going to die for what he did. Places, people! We attack in thirty minutes!"

Aedan had heard the Qunari people developed a different technique for knocking down castle walls. Some kind of powder that resulted in a massive explosion when lit, able to propel solid iron balls further and faster than any trebuchet could hurl a rock. They were powerful, but as long as the Qunari continued to stamp out magic, the rest of Thedas would always have the upper hand.

The only reason why siege engines were built in the first place was because mages had to recharge after their initial fireworks. But the effects were nothing short of spectacular.

Aedan felt the ground rumbling beneath his feet...the tremors rippling deep within the earth as the mages harnessed the ancient powers of soil and rock to bring down McFadden's defenses. Wynne had explained it to him a long time ago. The difficult part was not the creation of such destructive power, but rather the ability to minimise it and localise it into a specific area which would be of strategic use in combat. The earthquake that swallowed up both armies was generally a bad first move to make.

The mages that Cicero had sent over seemed experienced enough, thankfully. Aedan watched with grim satisfaction as their spells brought down the main gate, shaking it apart and raising a mighty cloud of dust as it collapsed, the horrified screams of the defenders on the castle walls music to his ears. Before they could recover, he sounded the immediate advance.

Columns of soldiers marched into the yawning gap torn in the walls, their shields over their heads to ward off any arrows sent their way by some of the more intrepid defenders. Oghren was leading the charge, accompanied by Shale, and Aedan was confident the first attack would succeed. Few people could withstand the one-two combination punch of the dwarf with the huge axe and the great walking stone giant. In the meantime he was hanging behind outside the walls with Wilder, Alistair, Zevran, the cavalry and the rest of the reserves.

Aedan had ordered that the flag of the House of Theirin be flown from the castle walls as a signal that the attack had succeeded. He strained his eyes trying to keep a look out for it, growing more and more unsettled as the minutes wore on and no flag appeared. The cries and shouts and the clash of arms had not ceased since Aedan had poured his men into the gap, and he was beginning to worry about his friends.

A rousing cheer went up from the assembled knights, they'd spotted something Aedan hadn't. Groups of bloodied men were staggering away from the castle through the gap in the walls, most were striving to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the the battle.

"The battle goes well, the enemy is fleeing!" proclaimed Ser Wilder.

Aedan remained silent. Something about the situation didn't feel right to him. If his men had been victorious, where was the flag? He kicked his horse and moved closer towards the castle, trying to get a better look. What he saw made his heart skip a beat.

"Those aren't their men...they're ours!"

Soldiers with torn surcoats bearing the royal seal were throwing down their arms and running away, those who were capable of running at least. The rest simply fell into the mud, the blood pouring from their wounds.

"The line has been broken," said Zevran, in shock. "Aedan, Alistair – Oghren and Shale are in there. They need our help!"

"Okay, here's what we do," said Aedan quickly. The entire battle hinged on what happened in the next few moments, and he had to keep a cool head when everyone else was losing theirs. "Let's lead the cavalry in – but not all of them at once. I want to see what McFadden has waiting behind those walls. Our men don't break and run so easily, most of them faced down a darkspawn horde for heaven's sake. It has to be some kind of trick."

Wilder didn't get the memo however. The smile had been quickly wiped off his face when he saw that Aedan was right and that their own men were deserting the battlefield. Worse, some of them were his own Grey Wardens, which tradition held should have died before running away from any enemy. Now he was quivering with anger.

"Knights of Ferelden, after me!" he roared, kicking his horse into a gallop. "Charge! Charge! Show those cowards how a man fights!"

"No, wait!" screamed Aedan, but it was too late. Many of the knights, eager to win glory, had already thundered off in Wilder's wake.

"Andraste Bride of the ****ing Maker!" swore Aedan furiously and impotently at their retreating backs. More than half of the knights had ridden off. "He'll kill us all! Zevran, get those reserves formed up!"

Alistair had wheeled his horse around, intending to join the fight, but Aedan stopped him.

"No mate."

"I have to fight."

"Alistair, you're the king. Any of us would die to save your life. You have a duty to your country and you do not have the permission to get yourself killed. You have to stay here."

"Aedan, if I lose this, I don't want to think what could happen," said Alistair, clenching a fist.

"We won't. I'll win this for you. Trust me," said Aedan grimly. He whipped his head around and bellowed at the men Zevran had assembled. "Reserves, hoist those pikes and into the breach! Knights, follow behind! All of you, listen for my damn voice at all times! Any man who disobeys me, ANY MAN, bigod that man is looking at a broken rib! Now MOVE!"

With a roar the second wave charged the walls of Greytower. Alistair watched Aedan and Zevran disappear, his heart racing a mile a minute.


	13. A Hero's Death

**Chapter Thirteen – A Hero's Death**

**Dragon Age 9:47**

**Greytower**

The first wave of pikemen plunged into the breach. There were fires burning everywhere, used by the castle defenders to great effect on the attacking soldiers. Great clouds of smoke and ash filled the air, making it difficult to see or breathe. The rubble from the destroyed gates and walls covered the ground, making normal movement all but impossible. Aedan swung off his horse and ordered the rest of the knights to do the same. Around them were the sad remains of the knights who had followed Wilder's lead and had not dismounted. Most of them never made it past the walls, and had been slain by archer fire.

Aedan and Zevran leapt over the obstacles and took their first steps within the castle grounds, moving warily and looking in all directions. The soldiers he had sent in for the initial charge were seasoned veterans, men and women he would have staked his life on fighting and winning without fleeing. Oghren and Shale were with them too, and they were the toughest warriors he knew. He couldn't understand it.

Utter chaos reigned, the type of intense hand to hand combat that seemed to stretch for ages. For a while it was all instinct, Zevran and himself slipping into an automatic, flowing routine that saw him engage the biggest and nastiest looking foes head on while the elf flanked them and waited for the perfect opportunity to get in a lethal stab while the victim was preoccupied with Aedan. Soon the two of them had cleared a little space in the centre of the castle courtyard, surrounded by the bodies of McFadden's men.

A small figure in torn armour and dripping with blood stumbled up to them. Aedan almost took his head off before realising it was Oghren.

"Warden!" he yelled. "They've got bloody Blood mages, they fooled us all, they -" His words were broken up by a fit of coughing, and he sank to his knees. Zevran leapt to his side and ripped a hole in a guardsman who was about to take a swing at Oghren from neck to groin.

Blood mages. Aedan knew McFadden was desperate, but he wasn't prepared for this kind of savagery. From what little he knew of Blood Mages, Aedan was aware that they did not have the usual limitations another mage was restricted by, able to convert a person's life essence into mana to power their spells.

A mage could fire off a blast of flame, or call lightning down from the sky, or put an entire legion of soldiers into a deep sleep. But he then would need to rest and recharge his powers, which were what the mages outside were doing. The Blood mages however, had no such concerns. Using their personal life forces only worked up to a point however, otherwise the mage would kill himself. But if someone provided them a whole host of victims from whom they could drain life from...someone like Arl McFadden in fact.

"Where's Shale?" asked Aedan urgently. She was the only one beside Oghren who was immune to direct magical attack.

"Went off to save Ser Wilder," mumbled Oghren. "He charged the mages with his wardens and got blasted all to hell." He pointed with his axe to one corner of the castle grounds. Aedan could just about see a huge mass of men, with flashes of magical fire arcing across the sky.

"Go ahead, Aedan," said Zevran, pulling out his daggers from the lifeless body of another unlucky McFadden guard. "I'll stay here and keep this beer-sodden fool alive."

"Piss off and go help the Warden, you knife-eared freak," groaned Oghren. "Let me die in peace."

"Never," said Zevran simply. Aedan raised his sword and shield, rallied his knights and marched onwards.

The first clue that Shale was among the throng were the bodies of McFadden guards flying through the air as if they were little more than ragged dolls. The golem might not have been what you would call a skilled fighter, but as someone capable of picking up a man and using him to hit several other men she didn't really have to be. Guardsmen were fighting among themselves to get away, and Aedan and his knights were able to cut them down easily.

"Foul wretched pathetic bags of meat!" bellowed Shale, shattering skulls with her mighty fists. "I am a champion of Caridin himself! Die quickly!" The golem was a force of nature, unable to be harmed by ranged or bladed weapons or direct magical attack. Only heavy two handed weapons were likely to hurt her, and there were few warriors capable of using such weapons effectively.

Aedan hacked his way to her side. The prone body of the Warden Commander lay at her feet, and Shale was doing all she could to defend him.

"Ah, it's arrived at last," she said, swatting aside a guard with such force he knocked over three others. "A little late to the party, doesn't it think?"

"I didn't know the bastard had Blood mages," said Aedan, between sword strokes. "What the hell happened here?"

"We were unprepared for any sort of magic attack," explained Shale, picking up a guard and literally ripping him limb from limb, spilling blood and guts everywhere. More than one guardsman turned and fled at the sight. "Their first blast blew a hole in the front ranks, only the drunken dwarf and myself survived. We tried to hold the line, but were overwhelmed."

"Is that twat alive?" asked Aedan, indicating the motionless body of Ser Wilder.

"Oh yes, it's just knocked out," said Shale. "Rather fragile for a Warden, wouldn't it say? It came storming in some damnfool death or glory charge with those idiot knights and were hammered by the Blood mages."

"We have to kill them. We don't stand a chance otherwise."

"That will take quite a bit of effort, I'm afraid," said Shale. "They're behind fortified positions, with a good supply of life force vessels. Slaves and villagers from the Arl's lands, I shouldn't wonder."

"Sick, twisted monster," seethed Aedan. "I'm going to kill him. But first, those mages. They don't know I learned a templar trick or two from Alistair. Magic doesn't bother me."

"Did it really?" remarked Shale incredulously. "Then we might stand a chance of making it out alive after all."

"Bring the Warden Commander to safety," Aedan commanded his knights. "Shale and I will cover your retreat."

"We want to stay and fight," protested one knight. The glare Aedan gave him made him take a step backwards.

"You'll do what I tell you to do, or it's my boot up your arse. Against these Blood mages you won't stand a chance, and I don't intend to have your deaths on my conscience. Get him out of here. Now."

The knights hauled Wilder up and began to drag him out of the castle grounds. Not a moment too soon, as it transpired, as a massive fireball was blocked by Shale in the nick of time.

"Hah!" she shouted triumphantly. "Stone doesn't burn, you fools!"

"It could burn me," said Aedan nervously. If Shale hadn't lumbered over when she did he would have been little more than a cinder. Alistair's templar training enabled Aedan to protect himself from direct magical effects, but fire whether it was created by flint and steel or by magic was still fire. Templar anti-magic would be useless against such an attack.

The mages, wherever they were, had apparently been listening. Aedan suddenly felt the temperature drop dangerously low, his breath was steaming in the air and frost was forming on his armour.

He recognised what was happening, he'd experienced it countless times while travelling and fighting with Morrigan. Skilled in primal magic, she always had an affinity for ice and the cold and this was one of her favourite spells. The Blood mages were conjuring up a blizzard.

The knights had already dragged Wilder out of range of the driving ice, but Aedan and Shale were caught in the dead centre. The intense cold was numbing Aedan's muscles, dulling his thoughts and slowing his movements, but he wasn't even the focus of the attack. Shale was. The mighty golem had been encased almost head to toe in a solid block of ice, she wasn't able to move. Her mouth was open though, in a bellow of incoherent rage.

What came next would be forever seared into Aedan's brain. A gigantic flaming hunk of rock dropped out of the sky, aimed squarely at the pair of them. With the last of her strength, Shale managed to free one arm, and shove Aedan out of the way. He was knocked aside and went sprawling into the snow covered ground.

The golem had been enchanted to withstand intense heat, cold, and force...but not all at the same time. The ice had severely weakened her, and the missile launched by the Blood mages was just too much for even Shale to endure.

"NO!" Aedan screamed, but he was powerless to do anything. He could only watch as one of the bravest and most stalwart companions he had ever known shattered into a thousand different pieces. The fire that had burned for centuries within Shale since before she had even become a golem warrior had been extinguished at last.

Chunks of the flying rocks – some of which had been the remains of his friend – struck Aedan on the leg. He felt the bone snap, even through the armour. He only had a second to cry out in pain before another piece bashed him on the head and knocked him out cold.

Aedan opened his eyes, and wished he hadn't. Pain from his broken leg immediately clamoured for his attention. Pain was such an old friend they'd been invited to each other's weddings, but this was something far worse than he'd ever encountered. Stubbornly, he tried to stand up on his own two feet, screamed in agony and collapsed in a heap.

"**** my life."

When the blinding pain had somewhat passed, Aedan pulled himself together and tried to take stock of his surroundings. Not surprisingly, he was in a cell. He did the math, and concluded that this was the seventh time he'd been stuck in a cell, with the added distinction of being the first time he was entirely naked.

Aedan dragged himself over to the bars of his cell and screamed himself hoarse, but no one arrived or answered. He looked around the little space for anything that could be used as a tool or a weapon, but it was as bare as his kids' rooms back at Castle Cousland were messy.

He sat motionless for what seemed like an eternity, trying not to think about what had just transpired. Shale was dead, and she wasn't coming back. She was the strongest and toughest of them all, literally made for war. She had survived for countless generations and died while saving his life. He could sit in the godforsaken hellhole and wallow in angst and feel sorry for himself, or he could start planning how he was going to kill Arl Roy McFadden.

Aedan suspected Shale would have much preferred the later.

So when the Arl's guards arrived several hours later, they didn't find the half-dead broken down almost-corpse they thought they would see. They found Aedan calmly sitting with his back to a wall, arms tucked behind his head and eyes closed as if he was safe and sound at home.

"Oi," said the first guard. "Wake up."

"I'm not asleep, jackass," replied Aedan without opening his eyes. The guards looked at each other.

"Arl McFadden requests your presence."

"And leave the comforts of this cell? What a shame. One of you will have to help me up. I'm afraid my leg's broken."

"I'm not having that," said the sergeant. "I've seen this one. It's all a ruse to get us closer, then you'll cut all our throats with some fancy hand to hand combat and sneak out of jail."

"Look," said Aedan, exasperated. "My leg is broken. I can't stand, much less walk. If you're not going to help me, then we're stuck here."

"Maybe we should help him up boss," muttered one of the other guards.

"What, you want to be the first one to die? Be my guest. He's a hero, he is. They always have a trick or two up their sleeve."

"I'm not going to kill anyone! And I'm buck naked, I don't even have sleeves!"

But the guards ignored him. They started arguing over who should enter the cell first. It was almost enough to make Aedan laugh. Being the famous Hero of Ferelden apparently had its disadvantages.

"Look," he said, putting an end to their argument. "How about you throw me a sled or something, and you can _drag _me to McFadden. That way you'll be out of arm's reach the whole time."

"How about it, boss?"

"I'm not doing anything no hero says! We'll all have our throats cut!"

"Then the only way McFadden sees me is if he comes down here himself you idiot, because I can't bloody walk!"

The guards huddled once more, then reached an agreement.

"All right, we're going to haul you to the Arl. But no funny business or cutting our throats. Swear it."

"I swear by the Maker and Andraste and even her ex-boyfriend Toby," sighed Aedan. "Just make it quick. And could somebody give me a loincloth or something?"

So it came to pass that Aedan had his second official meeting with the Arl of Greytower being dragged on a piece of wood tied to a rope, draped with so many chains he couldn't make a move without rattling. It reminded him of happier times back in Highever, where he would haul his kids around over the snow in their sleds.

The guards brought him to the main hall of Greytower, a grim, cheerless place. McFadden clearly didn't believe in spending even a bit of money to make it look a little more welcoming. Everywhere was grey stone and rough edges and high, narrow windows that did little to let the light and air in. It was circular, and devoid of furnishings but for a single high chair. In it sat the Arl.

"Hello Roy," said Aedan. "As soon as I get a weapon in my hand, you're dead."

If the Arl was moved in anyway by his threat, he did not show it. McFadden had grey hair, drooping eyes and a mouth that looked as though it had never known the touch of a smile. Aedan had only met him once before, at Alistair's coronation. He hadn't exactly made much of an impression then, but he'd caused Aedan no small amount of grief and pain since.

"Always with the defiant boast, Teyrn Cousland," said the Arl in his gravelly voice. "You're a hard man to kill."

"So the archdemon found out," said Aedan. "It didn't finish me off. What the hell made you think you could?"

"Oh, but I have. If my men had managed to carry out their orders, your children would have been dead or in my power by now."

Aedan's face went totally blank, utterly devoid of any expression. "Just for that, I won't kill you. I'll make you beg for death."

"Men like you are so predictable. Did you really think your family would be safe in Highever? I have sources within Castle Cousland itself. Recognise this?"

Arl McFadden reached within his pocket and tossed something to Aedan. It was a little blue pillow, and the sight of it made his heart stop. The last time he'd seen it, it was on his daughter's bed. Leliana had made it herself for Aeryn, stitched it with the words '_Mama and Daddy love you very __much'. _

"I thought so," said McFadden in the same dull monotone. "You see? A little bit of gold achieves what an entire army of darkspawn could not. I've taken your family away, my lord teyrn. Your daughter, your son. They're quite dead. Pity about that Orlesian whore you've taken for a wife, she escaped before my men could kill her. But we'll get her too."

"_Why would you do this to me? I'll KILL YOU! I'LLKILLYOU!"_

One of the guards kicked viciously at Aedan's broken leg. The pain was so intense he actually passed out for a few moments. When we weakly opened his eyes again the Arl had continued speaking.

"Why? To send a message. You Wardens are dangerous. You think you're above everyone else. Some Warden comes in and claims to be the son of Maric, backed by the heir to Highever who happens to be a Warden himself?_ My_ king died at Ostagar."

McFadden stood up and took a step towards Aedan.

"One arl against the king and his teyrn? They're not the best of odds. But if I can show that the mighty Hero of Ferelden can be brought so low, that this pretender to the throne fears what I can do...why, the sky's the limit."

Aedan's head was pounding with blood, his ears filled with nothing but a high-pitched whine. He struggled to free himself, but to no avail. All he could think of were his children, and his wife. He'd failed to spare them from the fate that had befallen his own father. He had failed beyond what he previously thought was possible. He was so overcome with fury and grief that if he had a sword in hand, he wasn't sure if he'd attack McFadden or shove it into his own guts.

"Your army is crushed. Your golem is dead, and I have the elf and the dwarf in my custody. Oh, and Alistair too. Pity the Warden Commander managed to escape though."

The desire for suicide intensified. Clearly he had somehow been cursed to live in a world where everything had gone mad. Why else would his friends and family be killed and a streak of piss like Wilder be allowed to survive?

"So you see, I've won. And all with a little gold."

Aedan said nothing. The despair he had fallen into receded as something about what the arl had said kicked his brain. It made him realise something he should have seen at once. Then he raised his head and spat at the arl, who leapt backwards with a shout.

"Just as I thought. You're nothing but a coward, McFadden. All you've done is to profit from the work of others."

"That's not true -"

"Before this began, you challenged us to single combat to prove your innocence. Although you're about as innocent as Archon Hessarian, I'm taking your offer. Single combat."

"You must think me a fool," said McFadden. "I have everything the way I want it. Why should I risk it all on some fight to the death?"

"Because backstabbing can only get you so far. Sooner or later you're going to have to answer for what you've done. Do you think the rest of Ferelden will respect someone who does business like you? That's how it might work in Orlais or Antiva, but not our nobles. If you're not strong, they'll gut you without a second thought."

"Are you saying I'm weak?"

"I'm saying I could kill you even with my leg in pieces. You never had the balls to face me or Alistair openly, McFadden. Even your offer of trial by combat was by selecting a champion. You're scared of us."

"Enough!" thundered the arl. "I accept your offer. Let's see how well you fight, Teyrn Cousland."

Aedan's heart raced with anticipation. Even if he couldn't stand, he was sure he could at least take down Arl McFadden with him.

"Just to make things interesting though..." interjected the arl, and nodded to the guards flanking Aedan.

"Break his sword arm. No point in taking chances."

"You cheating son of a bitch!" roared Aedan, but his curses were cut off when the guards roughly grabbed his arm, stretched it out on the floor, and swung a giant maul down. Aedan tried not to scream, not wanting to give the arl the satisfaction. Then the hammer smashed the bone, and he screamed.

The guards removed Aedan's chains, while others helped McFadden put on his ceremonial armour made from red steel. Aedan lay in a heap on the floor, his breaths fast and shallow. He couldn't remember being in this much pain. It was all he could do not to weep openly.

McFadden idly tossed him a small knife. "Shouldn't be a problem for the Hero of Ferelden, eh?" His guards laughed sycophantically.

"Now face me Teyrn Cousland, and die."

Aedan forced himself upwards, leaning all his weight on his remaining good leg, holding the knife in his left hand.

"Go to hell," he hissed. He needed to win. He had to.

A few minutes later it became apparent that unless Andraste herself rode in on a winged horse wielding her flaming sword Aedan probably wasn't going to survive this. He couldn't move, he could barely swing his arms, he was a lamb ripe for the slaughter. The only reason he wasn't dead yet was because McFadden seemed to enjoy toying with him, each cut he opened on Aedan's bare skin eliciting rousing cheers from the assembled guards. It would have been easier to lie down and accept defeat, but that wasn't going to happen. Aedan Cousland chose to do the things that were hard. He struggled on, trying to find a weak spot where he could stick the knife into McFadden's hide, but it was too much to ask.

McFadden grew bored and circled in for the final stroke. "Last words, my lord Teyrn?"

"You're going to die today."

"Trite, but inaccurate."

He raised his arms high, preparing to sweep Aedan's head off his shoulders with his axe. Aedan faced him, feeling very calm. He refused to meet death with his eyes closed.

Then at the last possible second an arrow zipped across the room and struck McFadden on the hand. He yelled and dropped his axe.

"Cutting it a little close, aren't we?" called Aedan, without bothering to look. He knew who it was. Whenever he was in trouble, no matter how bad things looked, she would be there to bail him out. Even if he had expressedly forbade her from doing so.

"Greytower has many guards," replied Leliana, dropping her bow and killing one with a vicious stab of her Royeaux One-and-Two longsword. The rest of the guards rushed forward, but they were no match for her. One by one they fell to her blade, until only she was left standing. "It was quite a chore to kill them all."

"No!" screamed the Arl. "You're supposed to be on the run! Your children are dead!"

"Well you see my lord," said Leliana, advancing towards him. "I am no stranger to the great Game. Your man was intercepted before he made his move. I forced him to deliver his message to you as if nothing went wrong. Then I fed him to the dogs. Alive."

McFadden gibbered uncontrollably. "I'll call in my mages! You won't stand a chance!"

"You mean him?" Leliana reached into her pack and hurled something wet and lumpy at McFadden. It hit his glittering armour with a splat and fell to the ground. McFadden shrieked in fright. It was a human head.

"Mages are easy to kill when they're not expecting you, Blood mage or no."

Aedan grinned. It occurred to him that Leliana had not only killed the same mages who had wrecked his army, she had taken the time to cut off a head and store it in her pack _just so she could throw it at McFadden at this precise moment, _purely for the dramatic effect.

You could take the girl out of the bardic life, but you couldn't take the bard out of the girl. He loved his wife.

"You see Roy," he explained. "You said Leli escaped and ran away after my kids had been murdered? I know her better than that. My wife would have died fighting to protect our children."

"_C'est vrai._"

"Where are the kids anyway?"

"Don't worry," said Leliana. "I made sure they were safe."

**The Circle Tower of the Magi**

**Lake Calenhad**

Silence was a common characteristic of the Circle Tower, being home to very old men and women or bookish young men and women who generally preferred sitting in a library than getting up to hijinks. There were the occasional loud bangs and explosions from a particularly disastrous experiment, but otherwise things tended to be on the quiet side.

"This is boring!" yelled Darien suddenly, making his brother and sister jump. All three of them were in his small quarters, and it was a little cramped.

Rolann had marched them inside, placed some sort of protective ward on the door, made them sit down and ordered them to keep quiet while he went on with his work. Aeryn had found an interesting book, but Darien wasn't the type to sit quietly.

"You heard what mom said," Rolann said irritably. He'd spilled a flask full of something that smoked and bubbled all over the rug. "I'm not allowed to let you guys out of my sight until she comes back with dad."

"I still don't understand it," Aeryn wondered out loud. "Why can't we go back home?"

"It's not safe at home, dummy," said Darien.

"I wish I could have brought my pillow along," sighed Aeryn. "Mom took it."

"She told me she caught one of McFadden's men snooping around Castle Cousland," explained Rolann. "So she brought you here to keep you safe."

"But where is she now?" asked Darien loudly.

"Mom said she could tell that dad was in danger. She's going to go rescue him."

"But what do we do until then?"

"Sit down and shut up!"

"I'd rather stay at home, even if bad guys are trying to kill us."

**Greytower**

"So this is the man who has given us so many problems, eh Aedan?"

"Unfortunately."

"Funny, I expected him to be taller. Whatever shall I do with him?"

"I demand trial by single combat! I have the right!"

"Maker, not this again," said Aedan. Leliana had a different reaction.

"Single combat? Certainly, my lord. I have wanted to do this for a very long time," she snarled, and launched herself at him.

The Arl struggled mightily to defend himself, but he was faltering under the brunt of Leliana's furious attacks. Aedan had rarely seen his wife so intense, but the Arl should have known better than to mess with his family.

Leliana's deft sword strokes landed precisely where the links in McFadden's armour were. Piece by piece they shivered off his body. Soon he was fighting in nothing but his underclothes.

"How does it feel now, _putain? _To stand there helpless, at the mercy of someone who could kill you a thousand times over?"

"Please, I'll give you anything!"

"You have nothing I want. My husband and children are all that I need."

"In the Maker's name, have mercy!" he sobbed, as Leliana smacked the axe from his hands, sending it clattering across the floor.

"You dare speak His name?" she spat, flicking her blade and piercing the Arl's shoulder. A rush of blood poured forth from the wound. Ignoring his agonized screams, she hacked off his arm with a frenzy.

"That is for Shale."

She then stabbed him in the gut, spilling more blood. "That is for my husband."

"Leli love," said Aedan quietly. "Make an end."

The man had endangered their children, and Leliana was more than capable of inflicting pain a thousand times worse, but she had tried for many years to change that dark side of her character, the part that enjoyed killing. She had succeeded in reforming herself, helped by Aedan's love. He didn't want a bastard like McFadden corrupting what Leliana had worked so hard to achieve.

Leliana paused, breathing heavily. She wanted to make McFadden suffer, perhaps even let him live so she could torture him some more. But she recognised what Aedan was trying to say. She shouldn't let her lust for revenge draw the fight out a moment longer than necessary. She decided to finish it.

Leliana gripped her sword and rammed it straight through McFadden's heart. She leaned over him and whispered the last words he would ever hear.

"And that one was for my children. The Maker has judged this trial by combat, and you have been found guilty."

Then she flung the body to one side and rushed over to Aedan's side. He was almost delirious from his injuries, but managed to return her kiss with surprising strength.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"I knew you'd come for me. I knew it."

"Maybe next time you'll listen to what I say."

"I only asked you to stay behind...to protect the kids," mumbled Aedan. He was having a hard time trying to stay conscious. "So where are they?"

"They're with Rolann, safe at the Circle Tower. No one knows they're there."

"Should have thought of that. I want to see them."

"As soon as we find and free the others, darling. Can you walk?"

Aedan struggled to stand on his good leg, swaying and almost falling. Leliana put his arm over her shoulder and helped him to take a few steps.

"Only if you support me Leli. I'll have to lean on you for now."

"That's what I'm here for Aedan. Now and forever."

His broad smile expressed what mere words could not. Slowly they made their way out of the hall together.

"You could stand to lose a few pounds, all the same. When we get home I'm putting you on a diet."

"Whatever you say love."


	14. In Their Halls of Stone

**Chapter Fourteen – In Their Halls Of Stone**

**Dragon Age 9:55**

**Orzammar**

Orzammar, as one Ferelden scholar had succintly put it, was a riddle wrapped in an enigma locked in a box of mystery. There were few humans who ever saw Orzammar. Even those who did would never understand it fully. You had to be a dwarf to fully understand the fabled dwarven capital.

The city had always been something of a curiousity to the rest of Ferelden. Technically the dwarves didn't care that their capital was located in Ferelden territory. To them the borders of the surface world were as meaningless as the borders below ground were to the humans. Previous Ferelden kings had even tried to attack Orzammar, only to find out very quickly how well the dwarves could fight. For a people who battled darkspawn every day right at their proverbial doorstep, a few human armies didn't pose much of a threat. Trade in particular did much to smooth things over, the dwarves dominated most of the mining operations in Ferelden and their smithing and crafting and forging skills were second to none. While a dwarf was still considered an uncommon sight in some of the more rural villages, entire families had made permanent homes in the larger cities, including Denerim and Highever. Eventually the Ferelden crown settled on a policy of civil, if cool diplomatic relations with the Dwarven King.

Aedan had literally put King Bhelen on the throne, yet he often wondered if he had done the right thing. Being of noble blood himself he tended to favour a direct descendant of the Aeducan line...although some of the rumours bandied about King Andrin's son were spine-chilling, chief of which was the accusation that he had his brother and father assassinated to assume primary position the throne. The first official act of Bhelen's reign was to have his biggest rival Lord Harrowmont summarily executed and his family and closest supporters banished to the surface, something which shocked Aedan tremendously, despite his belief that he'd seen all there was to see of vicious bloody political intrigue. He was very relieved to have followed the advice of the Paragon Caridin and Shale to destroy the Anvil of the Void, he didn't like the idea of Bhelen having an army of golems at his beck and call.

Despite his less than auspicious beginnings, Bhelen had proven to be a breath of fresh air to an ancient society that sorely needed it. In a few short years he'd completely overhauled dwarven society, allowing the casteless rights and certain privileges in exchange for signing up to fight the darkspawn. While Aedan viewed it as a pragmatic decision, it had been met with a storm of criticism from the dwarven warriors and nobles. Things had gotten so bad Bhelen had dissolved the Great Assembly and ruled as supreme monarch, the first king in dwarven history to do so.

The royal entourage were greeted at the gates of Orzammar by a delegation of dwarven warriors and nobles, the cream of dwarven society. Alistair had worked hard at fostering close relations with Orzammar ever since he took the throne, and as a result trade and goodwill between both sides had never been better. Dwarves respected kings, even human ones, and they really respected Grey Wardens. In their eyes the Wardens were the only humans who seemed to understand their troubles against the darkspawn, something which only concerned the rest of Thedas every few centuries or so. It was little wonder Alistair was very highly thought of in Orzammar.

"Your majesty King Alistair," proclaimed a senior dwarf, dressed in rich, jewelled clothes that could have bought a nice house in Denerim. "King Bhelen has received your message and wishes to make it known that every comfort and assistance that Orzammar can offer will be extended to you. We are deeply saddened to hear that the time of your Calling has arrived, your noble sacrifice honour sus all."

Alistair clasped the dwarf's hand and shook it energetically. "Thank you for your kind words. I would like to meet with King Bhelen at his earliest convenience."

"Certainly, your majesty."

Aedan allowed Mirka to help him dismount and handed him the reins of his horse. Ever since Aeryn had rescued him the boy had been settling well into his new role as a stableboy under the watchful eye of Seth the farrier.

"Thanks lad."

"My lord," stuttered Mirka, not daring to look Aedan in the face. He scuttled off as fast as he dared, leading the horse away. Aedan chuckled and linked arms with Leliana.

"Remember the first time we came here? It wasn't winter yet, but it was still cold enough to warrant a second coat."

"I remember. We were so weary and hungry and scared, running from Loghain's men. Then we actually ran into a bunch of them trying to get in to speak to the dwarves. I don't know who was more surprised, us or them."

"That was a fight and a half. You know, I'd only seen a dwarf once or twice before, barely even heard of Orzammar, and yet we had to journey to meet their king with nothing but an ancient bit of paper. So much has changed, hasn't it?"

"Yes. It has," said Leliana tersely.

Aedan felt his heart sink. Leliana clearly hadn't come to terms with what was about to happen. The deshyr lords and ladies set off for the Gates of Orzammar, with their official marching band making an almighty din. After the formalities at the Gates had been concluded, the guards swung them open, and the party set foot into Orzammar.

A small part of Aedan's mind, the part that dealt with his fear, pessimism and general self-loathing informed him that it would be the last time he ever saw the sun or felt the wind. Aedan quietly informed the rest of his brain to beat it up. He had gone his whole life trying to overcome the endless wiles of Lady Despair, and he wasn't about to let her win now.

"This is bloody marvellous," breathed Darien, taking in the sights of Orzammar's entrance chamber. Of course, since much of Orzammar never set foot on the surface, the dwarves tended to think of it as the exit chamber, the final sight a dwarf would see before leaving his or her home for good. Since Bhelen had assumed the throne however extended contact had been made with Ferelden, and leaving Orzammar was hardly the exile it had been in the past. Still, the chamber was designed with those exiled dwarves in mind. It was an enormous, cavernous room, lined wall to wall with immense statues of dwarven Paragons, those great individuals who were worthy of the respect normally reserved for Ancestors, dwarves who had achieved some great deed or contributed in some profound way to their society and community. A dwarf leaving Orzammar had to literally turn his back to the gaze of the Paragons forever. It symbolised the exiled dwraf giving up all that it meant to be dwarfish.

He had discussed this with Leliana at length. According to her the dwarves with their highly rigid and static lives and social mores venerated the Paragons because they represented an escape from the path that society had dictated for them. Anyone could become a Paragon and be raised up higher than the highest noble, even if that person was a casteless or criminal. Legends were rife with stories of ordinary dwarves who had achieved Paragonhood in the unlikeliest of ways. There were the Paragons Wodeward and Burnsteen, who had exposed corruption at the highest level and caused the fall of kings and nobles. The Paragon Wayne, who had dedicated his life to fighting crime and injustice wherever he found it. Even the Paragon Balboa, who had fought barehanded against a couple of ogres and saved entire thaigs. The legends stretched so far back it was difficult to tell which was fact and which was mere fantasy. But all of it fascinated tale-tellers like his wife.

Oghren stopped before the statue of the Paragon Branka, his former wife and seeker of the Anvil of the Void. She had gone mad during her search, sacrificing her loyal clan members one by one to bypass the traps and pitfalls installed by Caridin to safeguard his greatest creation. It had turned out to be a nightmare machine however, and Aedan had been more than happy to follow Shale's advice and push the bloody thing into a flowing river of lava.

However, Branka had adamantly refused to let Aedan and his companions destroy the Anvil without a fight, and attacked the group. Including Oghren. The prickly berserker had been forced to defend himself against his own wife after spending years trying to look for her. Aedan shuddered at the thought of having to hurt Leliana in any way, much less kill her. However if he didn't go through with the ritual of the Calling, she might be forced to do the same to him.

"Ah Branka," sighed Oghren. "She'd scream at you if you so much as left the toilet lid up but by the Stone, she was a firebrand between the sheets. I didn't mind her screaming then!"

"Tell me more, Uncle Oghren," said Darien, grinning.

"I don't think you need to hear that Dare," said Leliana quickly, but Oghren had already launched into a graphic spiel of the hijinks he and Branka got up to. Aedan was only half-listening, apparently lots of leather and hot wax had been involved.

"Maker help us," muttered Leliana.

"He'll shut up quick enough as soon as he sees Felsi," said Aedan. Aeryn had left Duncan's side and wandered over to them. Like Darien and Rolann, she was taking in the sights with some awe.

"I see what you mean now father. Orzammar is truly magnificent. It's...it's almost too grand to describe, really. A few words wouldn't do the place true justice."

"I agree, but this is just the topmost chamber. The best sights are further in. The Diamond Quarter, the Proving Grounds, even the Commons. Everything is so different here, and yet amazing in its own way."

The dwarf commoners stood by and watched curiously as the procession made its stately albeit noisy way through the different Quarters. Whereas in Denerim any procession, even a royal one, would have been in danger of a few flung tomatoes and jeers, Orzammar set great store by status and formality. There were no loud exclamations or shoving, just respectful silence as they made way for the deshyr lords and Ferelden's king. The proclaimers and official criers were really getting into their task, Aedan supposed calling the names of the same old dwarven lords and ladies got old after a while. Now they had an army of human nobles to introduce to the public.

"Way way for his majesty Alistair of the great and glorious House Theirin, King of all Ferelden-on-the-surface! Way way for Queen Anora, his wise and gracious queen! Make way for the Warden King, the dwarf-friend, the human who walks in the dark!"

Oghren had explained the dwarven tendency to respect names and titles. Aedan hadn't expected them to be quite so lyrical about it however. Idly he wondered if the fact that he was once blackboard monitor back when he was a wee lad and Master Aldous was trying to teach him stuff would impress the dwarves. He caught himself listening out for his name.

"Make way for Teyrn Aedan of most noble House Cousland, lord of Highever, ex-Warden Commander! Make way for the Dragonslayer, the Bane of darkspawn , the Hero of the surface world!"

"Dragonslayer? I like the sound of that. Make sure you call me that in your official memoirs, you hear?"

"Sure thing dad."

"Make way for Teyrna Leliana, the lady of Highever and bardess of Orlais! Make way for the infallible archer, the mistress of song, the lover of nugs!"

The kids all cracked up giggling at the last bit, and Leliana joined in. Oghren had ridiculed her long and loudly for asking for a pet nug from Aedan, it made no sense to him to feed and water what was essentially food. Not being able to resist anything she asked of him, Aedan had paid a dwarf good money to get a nug for his wife, and was pleased at her delight. He wasn't so pleased about the name she chose for it however. He always felt a bit silly about calling out 'Schmooples!' whenever the damn thing had gotten lost.

The party eventually made its way to the Royal Palace, where the deshyr lords pompously waved aside the long line of supplicants waiting for an audience with the king and proceeded directly to the throne room. Felsi was waiting there patiently with her son Ayden, and they rushed over to Oghren's side as soon as they saw him.

A blast of trumpets and a resounding drumroll preceded their entry. The proclaimers stepped forward, filled their lungs, and practically bellowed the royal party's arrival.

"King Bhelen, protector of Orzammar and shield of House Aeducan, His majesty King Alistair of Ferelden!"

Bhelen stood up from his throne, a beaming smile on his face. Aedan supposed it might even have been genuine. Beside him was his wife, a pretty young woman named Rica. Aedan had heard she was casteless, but her marriage to Bhelen had elevated her to an unimaginable position of wealth and comfort. She was a testament to the ideals of freedom and equality that he espoused. There were some mutterings from the dwarves, but the fact that she gave the king four young, strong sons did much to smooth things over.

Alistair stepped forward and was greeted in a familiar and friendly manner by Bhelen. While initially he had a low opinion of the Grey Warden who said little and preferred to let Aedan do all the talking during their first encounter, everything changed once Alistair took the throne. Over the years he had come to appreciate Alistair's affable manner and eagerness to foster a strong relationship with the dwarves. Aedan by contrast had always thought Bhelen to be at best a manipulative schemer and at worst a psychotic fratricidal despot and never really bothered to hide it.

After the king and queen had exchanged pleasantries with the king and queen and prince, it was time for Aedan and his family to pay their respects.

"Your majesty," said Aedan, bowing. The others did likewise.

"Teyrn Cousland. It has been far too long since you last visited," said Bhelen smoothly. "About a quarter century, to be precise."

"...yes. Your majesty, allow me to introduce my wife Teyrna Leliana..."

"A delight to meet you again, my lady."

"The pleasure is all mine, your majesty," said Leliana.

"My son Rolann, Senior Enchanter of the Circle Tower and my heir to Highever..."

"Your majesty," said Rolann, bowing deeply. The assembled dwarves looked at him with considerable interest, almost none of them had ever seen a mage before.

"My younger son Darien, soon to be a knight of the realm..."

Darien copied his brother.

"And finally my daughter Aeryn, newly-wed wife of our crown prince."

"Ah yes," said Bhelen, kissing Aeryn's hand. She was about twice his height, but still managed to curtsey demurely. Leliana's lessons had some impact after all. "So sorry I couldn't attend the wedding, my dear. I do hope the gifts I sent were to your liking."

"Your majesty was extremely kind and generous," replied Aeryn. Bhelen might not have bothered to trvael to Denerim, but Aedan had caught a peek at his wedding gifts and they were worth practically half of the entire royal treasury. Despite all that had happened, the dwarfs did not lack for gold and jewels, nor their skill for craftsmanship. "My royal husband and I wish to express our profound gratitude."

_Fair spoken, _mused Aedan. He had managed to have a little talk with Aeryn before this, and emphasized that Ferelden's alliance with the dwarves was of the utmost importance. If she was going to be queen, a warm relationship with King Bhelen was essential, who would undoubtedly live for many long years to come. He was pleased she was making a start.

"My lords, it has come to my attention that you wish to undertake the Grey Warden ritual of the Calling?"

"Yes your majesty," said Alistair. "The time has come for the Teyrn and I to perform the last sacrifice that all Wardens must undergo. We wish to travel to the Deep Roads and battle the darkspawn within its depths."

"We dwarves honour every Grey Warden who undertakes the Calling," intoned Bhelen solemnly. "We live in a constant state of war, our best and brightest sent to the front lines to protect our homes and way of life. The human kingdoms tend to forget this, after all they don't even see a darkspawn unless a Blight is at hand. But the Wardens don't forget. They never do. The Grey Warden life of struggle and sacrifice is one that we respect. The hospitality of Orzammar is extended to every Grey Warden who walks our halls, but for you King Alistair, we will honour your Calling like no other. You are the Warden King, the man who defeated the Blight. You shall be sorely missed."

"Thank you," said Alistair. Aedan said nothing and Bhelen picked up on it. He was nothing if not perceptive.

"And you of course, Teyrn Cousland the Dragonslayer," he said quickly. "Without whom the archdemon would not have been defeated. The first Warden to survive the battle and live to tell the tale, as well."

Bhelen's tone was just a little bit too suspicious for his liking, but Aedan didn't mind. Let him try to figure it out. He just smiled and nodded.

"Likewise, we honour your sacrifice."

"Your compassion overwhelms, your majesty," said Aedan. Beside him Leliana dug a discreet elbow in his ribs.

"Oghren of House Kondrat. At long last you have returned to Orzammar."

"I have, your majesty," said Oghren. Miraculously he wasn't drunk and even managed to look presentable with shiny armour and neatly trimmed beard.

"You wish to undertake the Calling too?"

"I do. It wouldn't be right to let my best friends go off into the darkness without me."

Beside him Felsi couldn't suppress a small gasp. Oghren ignored it, but Ayden laid a hand on his mother's shoulder, trying to comfort her.

"Very well," said Bhelen, choosing to make no further comment. "In light of your decision, permit me to make all three of you honorary members of the Legion of the Dead."

Alistair and Aedan exchanged glances. The Legion was at once the most respected and the most feared organisation in Orzammar. Most people didn't even like to talk about it. All dwarves lived in danger of the darkspawn, but the Legion actively sought them out. They were the kingdom's first, last, and best line of defense against the relentless darkspawn attacks, although things had really quietened down after Aedan's deal with the Architect. Legionnaires held their own funeral upon joining, because signing up was a death sentence. It had started as a way for criminals and dwarves who had brought great shame upon their houses to redeem their honour, but it had gradually evolved into one of the best fighting units in all of Orzammar, and even Ferelden. 'Legionnaire' had become a byword for 'murderously efficient warrior'.

"Your majesty, if I may," cut in another dwarf. Heads turned to see a woman in battle scarred armour, with distinctive facial tattoos. She had a round shield on her back, and a waraxe at her hip. Other than his personal guard, only Legion members were permitted to openly carry weapons in the presence of the king.

"It sounds like a wonderful idea," she said, smiling. "I would be most pleased to welcome them into my Legion."

"Sigrun!" called Aedan joyfully. "It's wonderful to see you."

"And you, Warden Commander. What say the both of you?"

"Aye," said Alistair. "We would be most honoured to join the Legion."

Leliana reflected that her husband was a remarkably modest man for someone in his position. He was of noble blood and had gathered a considerable amount of titles, honours and accolades over the course of his life. He had a tendency of taking charge in almost every situation that he was in, and could be a little too authoritative at times. Yet he had seemed very surprised and touched at the number of people who had pledged to follow him into the Deep Roads.

Oghren had decided to venture into the Roads with him, leaving his wife and young son behind. Leliana had met them both and thought them to be very nice people, particularly Ayden, who was named after her husband and was growing into a fine warrior himself. He was fast friends with Darien, sharing similar personalities.

At least Aedan had given her warning weeks ahead. Felsi hadn't known about Oghren's decision at all. She was whacking him around the head and had to be practically dragged off him as soon as they were out of the Royal Palace.

The Legionnaire named Sigrun had stubbornly decided to return to Orzammar after helping Aedan to defend the city of Amaranthine. Initially encountering deep distrust and hostility from the rest of the Legion because of her supposed cowardice in Kal Hirol, she gradually won their respect by proving her courage in battle time and time again. Some said she was seeking the death denied to her at Kal Hirol, yet she always managed to survive. In time she rose to the position of the commander of the Legion, despite being both casteless and female. She frequently led expeditions into the Roads, even managing to retake a thaig and clearing out a substantial part of the ancient fortress of Bownammar. Now that Aedan had arrived, she pledged to join in his Calling together with him.

There was Alistair, of course. The king had claimed to feel the darkspawn taint as well, but Leliana sometimes wondered if he simply wished to accompany his oldest and best friend on his final journey. While Aedan had kept himself trim over the years, Alistair had rather enjoyed the comforts of palace life, and did not nearly look the templar warrior he once was. Still, even if it was true, she could understand his decision. After all, wasn't that what she wanted for herself?

Her husband was fiercely loyal to those he loved and considered his friends, and merely fierce to the rest of the world. Although he had won great acclaim for his deeds, his real strength lay in inspiring others. The number of Legionnaires who were to accompany Aedan on his Calling was tremendous. Many of them had fought by his side during the Blight, and wanted the opportunity to serve alongside him in battle one last time.

He had let them, of course, shaking hands and thanking crowds of dwarves over and over. Anybody who wanted to die by his side was allowed to do so. Anyone except his wife, it would seem.

They had been given rich, opulent rooms in the Royal Palace for the duration of their stay. Aedan and Alistair had been honoured with a ceremony for their entry into the Legion, a long process which involved much carousing, quaffing and feasting. Having attended no end of feasts in the past few weeks, Leliana quietly took her leave and made her way back to the palace. She was surprised to find that Alistair had done the same.

"Leliana!" called Alistair cheerfully. The king was all by himself. Even with the beard and belly, he still had the same twinkling, merry eyes that she remembered from the Lothering tavern all those years ago, so different from Aedan's deep and solemn grey.

"Hello Alistair. Aren't you with your family?"

"Oh Duncan's off somewhere with Aeryn, and Anora's speaking to Bhelen," said Alistair. He looked a little sad, and Leliana wondered if Aedan truly grasped the significance of what he had done when he had made the two of them get married. While it seemed like the best thing to do at the time, Anora wasn't exactly the warmest and most caring woman in the world. Alistair had not spoken a single word of complaint, however, and did his duty for the country despite being robbed of the right to choose his own wife. Living with her could not have been easy, and while another man in his position might have resorted to having a mistress on the side, not one word of such had ever reached Leliana's ears. Anora had even been known to display affection towards him from time to time. In his own right however Alistair had been an excellent king, and it suddenly hit her that she was really going to miss having him around. No sooner than she had thought of it, she told him so.

"That's very kind of you to say that my dear," said Alistair, with genuine gratitude. "I've had the greatest lords and ladies tell me they were sorry I was leaving, but with you at least I know you're telling the truth."

"You're welcome," said Leliana, and got no further before she let out a sob. This was all too much, having to say goodbye to him and Oghren and Aedan, while she was left behind to carry on in her grief.

"Please don't cry Leliana," said Alistair alarmedly, leading her to a bench and sitting down. "It makes it so much harder to say goodbye."

"I just don't understand why he doesn't let me come," she said. "He's leaving me, but you and Oghren are following him. I've been by his side for so long. We've seen and done so much together and now he's leaving me forever. I want to go with him, Alistair. I want to defend him with my last breath. He's going to die and I don't think I can carry on without him."

Alistair didn't say anything for a while, just held her while she cried and gave vent to her feelings. Finally she subsided, and accepted a silk handkerchief that he offered.

"Leliana, please listen to me. It's not an easy decision for him, in fact it might be the hardest he's ever had to make in his life. You do remember his own mother died defending his father against Arl Howe's men?"

Leliana nodded. Aedan had told only two people in the entire world the full story of what had happened on that night.

"He does want to be with you in his final moments, he wants it so desperately. But you know how Aedan is. He always does what is right, and that does not always coincide with what he wants. Although Eleanor chose to die at Bryce's side, he still thinks he should have saved her somehow. He told me more than once that he would have been grateful of his mother's care and counsel, had she survived and fled with him. Don't you see? He wants his children to have what he could not. He does not want them to be orphaned as he was."

Alistair paused while Leliana considered his words. Her children meant everything to her, but she loved Aedan so much she simply could not imagine living without him. However, he and Alistair were right. She had to carry on, for the sake of her children. Parenthood meant sacrifice every single day, and she would have to make the biggest sacrifice of all to do right by her children.

"Dear Maker, what a world it is when a woman is forced to choose between her children and her husband," she said bitterly.

"Then help us to make a world where that never has to happen again," said Alistair earnestly. "You know Anora will be left to rule, and someday Duncan will be king with Aeryn at his side. You will be a vital influence, always giving them the benefit of your experience and compassion and sense of mercy. Ferelden needs that, and I trust you to provide it Leliana. I always have. You do know I have made you an official member of the royal council? It is not a request, it is a direct order. Whatever happens in my country, I want your voice to be heard on the matter."

"I...thank you Alistair."

"And what about history?" he went on. "I need someone to set the record straight about what really went on during the Blight and all the other adventures you had with Aedan. Who better than the best bard I have ever known? Weave your tales and sing your songs so that what we accomplished will stand the test of time. Heroes die, Leliana, but legends live forever."

"I can do that," she whispered. "Yes, I could do that. Thank you Alistair."

A door opened, and the familiar sound of Aedan's whistle came echoing down the corridor. He had a terrible whistle, high and reedy and always out of tune, but he did it anyway. He caught sight of the pair of them and went over to them.

"Hello darling, I was wondering where you had slipped off to. Missed you at the ceremony, thought you might be back here."

"Yes, I was," she said, smiling and blinking away the last of her tears. Her arms went around Aedan's neck and she pulled him down to her lips for a long, loving kiss.

"Alistair was just explaining things to me. I should have thought about how your parents died, and why you wanted me to stay behind. I have been a selfish person, and I am sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Leli love," said Aedan. "Leaving you will be the hardest thing I will ever have to do, but we must endure for the sake of our children. One of the many, many reasons why I love you so much is because of what a wonderful mother you have been to our kids. I don't want them to lose you."

"I understand," said Leliana. She looked at Alistair. "Thank you for making me see things clearly. And thank you again for the place on the council. I promise to do everything I can to help Duncan."

"It was no trouble," said Alistair. His face brightened. "Say, what about a group hug? We haven't had one of those in ages."

Aedan laughed. "You're right. Hell, why not? You two are the best friends a man could ever have."

They did so, and Aedan gave Alistair an extra brotherly embrace.

"Thanks mate."

"Least I could do."


	15. Forever Yours, Faithfully

**Chapter Fifteen – Forever Yours, Faithfully**

**Dragon Age 9:55**

**Orzammar**

It was later. Aedan and Leliana had made love with the easy familiarity of two people who had spent so much of their lives together. There was an element of routine about it that was inevitable in any marriage, but even routine was the natural evolution of passion. Each knew what the other liked best after long years of practice, and they saw to it that each other's needs were fulfilled. The trick was to recognise routine for what it was, and not to worry needlessly that the spark had gone out of their marriage. As the poet said, 'young love burns with the intensity of a new-kindled blaze, fast and bright and quickly extinguished, while the embers of long-lasting love continue to glow long into the night.'

"I love you. So much," Aedan murmured drowsily. He must have said the words a million times ever since he had summoned the courage to say it for the first time on one starlit night at camp all those years ago, but he meant it as strongly now as he ever did then.

Leliana rested her head on his chest, touching her fingers to his. She always felt the same after making love to her husband – a sense of deep, profound completeness. While he was with her she felt safe, and whole, and cherished. There was an ancient legend that every person had once been created with a partner joined to him or her, until the Maker saw it fit to separate them. Some people went their entire lives without finding the one whom they were meant to be with. Somehow or the other, she had found hers.

"I know."

Aedan chuckled, and tickled her nose. "You're making jokes again. I'd missed that. You always know how to make me laugh."

"So did you, _mon cherie. _I never had much opportunity for laughter in my past life. Working as a lady's maid, unrestrained laughter would have been scandalous. As a bard, you could never tell who really was your friend or who was merely trying to lower your guard before sticking a knife in your ribs. There were never really any moments of genuine levity – until I met you."

Aedan stroked her hair while she spoke. He did so love her long, lush red tresses, and although she found that a shorter-cut style was easier to maintain, she kept it long for his sake.

"You've given me so much, Aedan. So many moments of joy. Being a wife, being a mother...I wear those titles better than bard or spy."

"You've given me more, my Leli love. I was just another arrogant young noble before I met you. I had no idea how to we were going to survive, much less defeat a Blight."

"But you always seemed so confident and daring back then."

"I was in pants-staining terror most of the time, really. Meeting with kings, commanding armies, defeating ancient terrors...and I had to do it all with a group of bickering, squabbling misfits. What could I have done if Sten decided to do things his way, or if Morrigan cast some foul spell on us, or if Zevran had turned out to be a double-crosser after all?"

"You did make a team out of us. We saved the world."

"Aye, so we did. But in doing so I had to become your leader. A leader is not allowed to get scared and show fear or weakness in front of his people. A leader's job is to be inhumanly perfect, to be better than the rest so that they are inspired to do better than they can."

"I hadn't thought about it like that. We just assumed you always knew what to do."

"I was lucky. I had great friends like Alistair, and Wynne...and you. You most of all. When I was with you I didn't need to be the perfect hero or Ferelden's last hope. I wasn't the last of the Couslands or the Wardens. I could just be myself. Aedan from Highever. All I needed was to be the man you loved. And that was enough."

Leliana propped herself up on his chest and looked into his eyes. "There is a saying. Our true selves are revealed in the darkness, where no one can see you. But you know my true self, because even in the dark you are with me. And I am always with you. Forever."

She lowered her head, her hair enveloping their faces like a red silk curtain, and gave him a delicate kiss.

"I'm glad we worked things out."

"So am I."

"You know...it's probably time to discuss what happens after I'm gone."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well...about whether you'd want to marry again."

Leliana punched him. "You idiot! Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Come on now, it's a serious question. After all, you'll be the grieving widow of Highever..."

"Stop it!"

"In mourning for the man she loves, over a half-century of years by now but still extraordinarily sexy..."

"Oh you insufferable man, you won't have to wait for the darkspawn to kill you, I'm going to do it right now."

Aedan sat up and swept his hair back, looking at his wife with an evil grin.

"Alright, here are my terms. Although I find the idea of another man marrying you to be quite repulsive -"

"So do I."

"It would be very selfish of me to hold you to our wedding vows after death has indeed done us part. Picture a nice older gent, charming, eloquent, with a beautiful house in the country and three lovely grown-up daughters married off to respectable knights and merchants, having lost his dear wife to the plague over twenty years ago, in mourning ever since -"

"If you insist on continuing this ridiculous tirade -"

"Well then, I wouldn't mind at all if he asked for your hand in marriage and you said yes."

"Really?" asked Leliana suspiciously.

"Really."

"This from a man who knocked out a couple of the Marquis of Ribery's teeth because he was flirting with me during Empress Celene's Winter Ball?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure about this, Aedan?"

"Well no."

Leliana punched him again. "I knew it!"

"I can't say the idea appeals to me really," said Aedan airily. "But I don't want you to worry over much. Let us pretend then, that I have given you both my blessing."

"Fine, if you insist. I'll do that."

"Just make sure you tell him that he could never hope to satisfy you in bed as I did."

Leliana snatched up a pillow and hit him with it repeatedly, Aedan laughing hysterically and warding off the blows with his arms. She let up after a while, and kissed him again.

"I could never marry someone else."

"Who knows?" said Aedan. "You might meet a decent chap who wants to keep you company. All I'm saying is that if you want to, then don't let me stop you. I just want you to be happy."

"It's a kind offer dear, and I'll be sure to give it a great deal of thought," said Leliana teasingly. "But what about you?"

"Huh?"

"Let us pretend you had never met me..."

"Oh crap, I hate these kind of games."

"It's not a game, it's a question. Say you and I had never met. Would you have married another woman?"

"No. Certainly not," said Aedan immediately. "I would have gone to my grave never knowing the pleasures of a woman's touch. I would have been a sailor, married to the sea. I might even have got around to liking men, because no other woman could ever compare to the one I was meant to be with but by some cruel trick of fate, could not."

"You're doing this on purpose aren't you."

"I most certainly am."

"Aedan my light and love, let us not waste these precious last hours we have together with foolish talk."

"Your wish, my lady, is ever my command."

The time had come, at long last.

The King of Ferelden and the Teyrn of Highever. The templar turned warden king, and the dragonslayer. Alistair and Aedan. They had started this adventure together, on a chill, momentous night illuminated by the campfires of Ostagar twenty five years ago. Three men had attempted the Joining, overseen by the canny old Warden Duncan. One had survived, and the Maker must have had a hand in the matter, because that one would go on to save Ferelden and possibly all Thedas along with a group of heroes that surpassed all those of legend, and whose like would probably never be seen again.

There would be no grand funerals, no long, drawn out goodbyes. There would be no tears shed, not because the men had not earned such sorrow at their impending departures, but because they had wished it to be so. They did not fear death or venturing into the unknown depths. Lady Death was but an old friend, one who had flirted with them for many long years, and she would welcome them into her sweet embrace.

King Bhelen was there, with his family and greatest lords and ladies in attendance, waiting to see them off at the mouth of the Deep Roads. The Legionnaires lined up in their imposing ranks, perfectly still, clad in their eerie black armour with the full face helmet that made each warrior look exactly alike. Sigrun and Oghren stood at their head, standing at attention. Around them stood what must have been every single dwarf in Orzammar, and a fair few humans who lived within a few days' journey of the city. Children rode on their parents' shoulders, everyone straining to catch a glimpse of the final moments of the two of the most famous men in Ferelden's history. They knew in their hearts they would not see the like ever again in their lifetimes.

Alistair was wearing the golden armour of his lost brother Cailan, recovered from the ruins of Ostagar. Still serviceable after all the years had passed, he truly looked like a king of legend. To the depths he would carry the blade of his father Maric, and no other.

Aedan had worn many suits of armour and wielded many swords over the course of his long life, although he always maintained that no weapon could ever replace training of discipline. Still, he had a fondness of collecting such weapons, the rarer the better. The Green Blade, with which he used to defend Redcliffe from an infestation of ghouls. The Summer Sword, which he took from the unresisting hands of the famed knight Ser Cauthrien after defeating her not in battle, but with words. Asturian's Might, which he recovered from the haunted enclave of Soldier's Peak. Topsider's Honor, discovered in the grave of an elven hero in the depths of the Deep Roads. Even Vigilance, an otherwordly blade that had unfortunately been stolen by Antivan Crows.

Out of his extensive collection however, his family knew the one he prized the most was Starfang, forged from fantastically rare star metal that had fallen from the heavens. It was Starfang with which he slew the archdemon and the grotesque abomination only known as the Mother. It was a beautiful sword wrought with cunning runes of enchantment, and the glory of his House. Everyone assumed he would take it with him.

So it was to their surprise that Aedan handed it to Alistair. Everyone except Leliana, that is. Alistair smiled and beckoned for Darien to come over to him.

"Kneel before your king, Darien of House Cousland."

Darien did so. Alistair tapped him lightly on both shoulders with Starfang's blade.

"Have you completed your service as squire to a lord of the realm, and spent the night in prayer before the sight of the Maker?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"Then I charge you, Darien of House Cousland, in the name of the Maker and his prophet Andraste, to protect and defend the weak, to uphold the laws, to be chivalrous to friend and foe alike, to fight injustice wheresoever it may be found, to resist corruption and all other evils and remain true, and pure, and just. Do you so vow?"

"I do so vow."

"Then arise, Ser Darien of House Cousland, knight of the realm."

Alistair passed Starfang back to Aedan. Traditionally a knight was supposed to receive his new weapon after his knighting ceremony.

"Dare my boy," said Aedan. "I love you and know you well. You are a mighty archer, and the bow fits your hand better than the sword ever did."

"Yes dad. I mean, father."

"With that in mind, I want you to have this." Leliana passed him a magnificent longbow, fashioned from dragonthorn. He handed it to Darien, who took it with reverence.

"Its name is Far Song. It has a long and storied history, of which your mother could tell you more, I have no doubt. With this you will never miss your target."

"Thank you, father."

"And you're welcome to any of the other swords in my collection as well. Use them wisely, and ever in defence of what is right."

"I will."

"Good lad. Rolann, step forward please."

Tall, dark Rolann, hooded and cloaked, mage and mystic. He was Aedan and Leliana's son, and would always be, yet he was Morrigan's as well, and her legacy would always mark him strongly.

"Rolann my heir, to you I leave Castle Cousland and Highever, and all its lands and incomes. Your children and grandchildren shall be the lords and ladies of the lands of my fathers for all time."

"Yes father."

"But for something a little more personal...I want you to have this." Aedan handed him a glowing silver sword. Rolann held it, and felt at once the power coursing through it. His eyes widened.

"It is called Spellweaver, a blade made especially for the arcane warriors of the elves of old. Crafted to fit a mage's hand, it shall serve you well."

"Thank you father. I shall treasure it."

"I know you will. Aeryn, if you would be so kind?"

Aeryn left Duncan's side and stood before her father, looking surprised.

"My beloved daughter. You are a princess now, but I still remember the girl I taught to fight, and fight well. Ferelden has been blessed with many strong queens who could best even the strongest of men, including Alistair's grandmother Moira the Rebel Queen. It seems fitting to me that I should give you this."

Without a second thought or so much as a glance of longing, Aedan gave Starfang to her. Aeryn gasped in shock, and almost dropped it.

"But father, it's your best sword. Aren't you taking it with you?"

"Why, so it would be lost forever? Seems a terrible waste to me, my dear girl. Take it and use it well, and think of your old dad when you do."

"Oh father," said Aeryn, stifling a sob. "Thank you so much."

"Think of it as my gift to House Theirin as well," said Aedan, smiling at Duncan. "This sword shall be an heirloom of your house, and passed down from one generation to the next."

"You are most generous, your grace," said Duncan. "But what shall you wield within the Deep Roads?"

"I thought about it, and the answer was obvious," said Aedan. "All I need is the Cousland family sword which my mother gave to me so long ago."

Leliana handed him the old sword, and he buckled it at his hip.

"Well, that's about it. I think it's time we said our last goodbyes," said Alistair.

"Aye."

The two men went to their families, and Oghren to his wife and son as well. Aedan looked at his family for the last time. Proud Rolann all in black, struggling to hold back tears. Aeryn looking so beautiful in white robes, weeping openly. Darien the newly made knight, holding on to his mother for support. And Leliana, wearing the blue dress he had gotten for her on their honeymoon, eyes wet but with a smile on her face, for his sake.

"Time for me to leave, all of you. Don't be too sad, I've had a wonderful life all things considered. The things I've seen, the deeds I've done, the people I've met and the family I was blessed with. No man could ask for more. Forgive your old dad for any mistakes I made."

"There is nothing to forgive," said Rolann firmly, and his brother and sister nodded in agreement. Aedan turned to him.

"Rolann, you are my pride. You were a gift to me and your mother, a sign that we should settle down and build a family. You're now a man grown, with such power. But your strength does not lie in your talents, my boy. It lies in your morality, and sense of virtue, and the will to choose what is right over what is easy. You are a great scholar and mage and I'm sure you will succeed me as one of the greatest Teyrns Highever has ever known. I'm so proud of you, and I love you so much."

"I love you too father," Rolann managed to say. Aedan gave him a hug, and turned to Aeryn next.

"Aeryn, my light. You don't know how happy and blissful you made your mother and I when you were born. I watched you grow, I helped you up when you fell, tried to shield you from the world's dangers. You've blossomed into an amazingly graceful and intelligent and brilliant young woman. You are a credit to us, Ryn darling. I love you and I'm very proud of you, sweet child of mine."

Aeryn threw her arms around her father's neck and hugged him tight. She then wiped away her tears and squeezed her mother and brother's hands. Aedan looked at his youngest son.

"Darien, my joy. You were a little bundle of fun and mischief, always getting into trouble and out of it again. You were the most cheerful child I knew, nothing ever dampened your spirits. You were always optimistic even in the most trying of times, and that will stand you in good stead for the future. I was immensely proud the day Arl Connor wrote to me to say that you were an excellent squire, always fair and polite to everyone, no matter their birth or station. We need more knights like you in Ferelden, knights who will remain true to their vows. I love you my dear boy, and you will continue to make me proud, of that I have no doubt."

"Love you dad," said Darien. He shared a last hug with his father.

"All right all of you. Remember what I taught you, and listen to your mother. I've done a lot of writing, my memoirs are all in Castle Cousland, so make sure you hang on to those, okay? I have been noble, warrior, warden, general, dragonslayer and Teyrn, but the titles I cherished most of all have been husband to your mother and a father to you three. We'll see each other again someday, of that I have no doubt. Maker bless you and watch over you all."

Finally Aedan prepared to say farewell to his wife. He lifted her chin, brushed her hair from her face, and kissed her.

"Hey beautiful."

"_Mon cherie._"

"Thank you for everything. All that I've done, all that I am, was because of you. I'm yours, heart and soul. Then, now, and forever."

"You have my heart, Aedan. Thank you for giving me our children, and my home, and my life. Every happiness in my life, everything good and decent and cherished was because of you. The Maker led me through the darkness and He rewarded me for my faith. I found you."

Aedan smiled. "Sing for me, Leli love. One last time. I'll take that memory with me into the darkness and light it with the thoughts of my love."

Leliana cleared her throat and began her song. She needed neither music nor instrument, just her voice, as clear and high and pure as when she sang him to sleep by the campfires all the years ago when there was nothing in the world but the two of them, lost in love.

"_All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go,_

_I'm standing here outside your door,_

_I hate to wake you up to say goodbye. _

_But the dawn is breaking, it's early morn,_

_The coachman's waiting, he's blowing his horn,_

_Already I'm so lonesome I could die..."_

Aedan joined in, gently swaying with his wife.

"_So kiss me and smile for me,_

_Tell me that you'll wait for me,_

_Hold me like you'll never let me go. _

_Cos I'm leaving, right from your side,_

_I don't know how many tears I've cried._

_Oh babe, I hate to go."_

Leliana smiled, forehead to forehead with Aedan, singing in unison and in perfect harmony, one of the few times Aedan had ever managed to do so.

"_And now the time has come to leave you."_

"_One more time let me kiss you."_

"_Close your eyes and I'll be on my way."_

"_Dream about the times we shared, the love we had, the laughter fair."_

"_About the times when I won't have to say..."_

They finished the song, and kissed for the last time. Aedan savoured every last second of it, the taste of her lips, the smell of her hair, the soft touch of her hands on the back of his head. Finally, regretfully, they parted.

"I've always loved you. I'll always love you. Now and forever, my Leliana."

"I love you too, Aedan. Ever since from the moment I saw you. You were the best friend and lover and husband and soulmate a woman could ever hope to have. Goodbye, my love."

"Goodbye. I'll see you again."

Aedan took a last look at his family and left their side, each step feeling like an open wound. He rejoined his friends at the head of the Legion column, and wasn't surprised to see tears on both Alistair and Oghren's face.

"Shall we, mates?"

"Aye."

"Aye."

"COMPANY, ATTEN...SHUN!" screamed Sigrun suddenly. The clash of metal as all the Legionnaires stood at the ready rang all around the caverns of Orzammar.

"Would you say the Warden oath, my lords? One last time?" she asked.

"Sure," said Aedan. He raised his voice.

"In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight. Let those who worship archdemon might, beware my power – Grey Warden's light!" he proclaimed, voice stentorian and proud.

Sigrun stared at him, expression frozen on her face. It was matched by practically everyone else in the crowd. The silence was defeaning. In the distance, someone coughed.

"Mate," hissed Alistair out of the corner of his mouth.

"What?"

"That's the wrong bloody oath!"

"What? How the hell should I know?"

"Well you were only the bloody sodding Warden Commander, after all."

"Oh I can't be having with this. You do it then."

Alistair stepped forward, arms spread wide.

"In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice." A resounding cheer met his words.

"Well said, your majesty. COMPANY...QUICK MARCH!"

Trumpets blared, drums pounded. The Wardens with their honour guard marched off into the Deep Roads. And so it was that the tale of Aedan Cousland, Teyrn of Highever, dragonslayer and vanquisher of the Blight, ended forever.


	16. A Whisper of Things to Come

**Chapter Sixteen – The Sound Of Her Wings, A Whisper Of Things To Come**

**Dragon Age 9:55**

**Somewhere within the Deep Roads**

Aedan opened his eyes.

Hadn't there been some terrible battle? He remembered fighting furiously for his life, unwilling to die even during those last moments. He remembered reaching Bownammar with Alistair and Oghren, Sigrun and her Legionnaires, and thoroughly clearing the place of every last darkspawn that still lurked within its depths. It had been a major victory, and given the Legion back their ancestral home base. But onward he still ventured, past the deeps, past every road he'd ever been on before, on and on where even the most ancient of the Legion's maps began to fade.

He had finally found the enemy he sought. A monstrous horde, far larger than any he'd ever encountered. He had grinned, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline. After all, he was already dead. What had he to lose? So he charged.

He didn't remember the actual moment, as such. Just a sudden, cold, sharp bite, and sinking to his knees as the life drained from his body. There hadn't been pain, not exactly.

"Rolann," he had forced through his bloody lips. "Aeryn. Darien. Leli. I love you all."

That was the last thing he remembered, before darkness overwhelmed him. But all memories of the time before that were growing faint and hazy, as if they were the half-forgotten remnants of some fantastical dream...

He sat up and looked around. He appeared to be in a wide open field, with hills and green grass stretching on as far as the eye could see. For a moment he thought he was back home in Highever on a summer's day. He felt the wind on his face again, and welcomed its touch. He turned his eyes to the clear blue sky, and relished the heat and light on his face.

"Hello Aedan."

Aedan didn't know how long he had been sitting on the grass just relaxing in pure bliss. He looked to see who was it that had called out to him.

It was a young woman, slim and petite, the top of her head coming no higher than his chest, but very, very pretty. She had pale white skin, masses of hair as dark as a raven's wing, and dressed in a very odd collection of garments. They were black, and showed off her lovely figure very nicely, but he had never seen clothes like it before. She was also wearing black boots and had around her neck a little silver ornament that looked like the Chantry's Sword of Mercy, but had a rounded bit where the hilt normally would have been.

"How do you know my name?" he asked. It seemed like the only thing to ask.

"Oh, I know who you are Aedan. It's nice to see you again."

"Again? Have we met before?"

"Only once. But you probably don't remember me."

"I can't say that I do," he said slowly. "I'm so sorry my dear."

"Think nothing of it," the girl said easily.

"I'd like to ask you a question, if I may."

"Fire away."

"Am I dreaming? Is this a dream?"

"Nope, not at all. You'd want my brother for that."

"Where are my friends? Alistair, Oghren, Sigrun, the rest?"

"I can't tell you that Aedan. No one can know someone else's story. Just yours alone."

"Who are you then? Where am I?"

"We're in the Sunless Lands, which is my realm. As for who I am...don't you remember me?"

She smiled at him and looked into his eyes, and Aedan realised it all of a sudden. He lowered his head.

"My lady."

"Oh please, we don't usually stand on ceremony here. Far too much bother. I like to keep things nice and simple."

"Have you come to take me away?"

"Yes. I have."

"I tried to do good and what was right. I've done a lot I'm not proud of, but I've had a great life. I like to think I did the best with the time that was given to me."

"One lifetime. That's all anyone ever gets."

Aedan looked away and stared off into the distance. "My children. My wife. Do they...will they be alright? Happy? Safe?"

"Now Aedan, you know I can't tell you that," she chided gently.

"Will I at least get to see them again? Please, I have to know."

The girl clicked her tongue and thought it over for a little while, making up her mind. Finally she spoke.

"Yeah, you will."

"Promise?"

"I never lie."

"I don't think you ever would. Well then...that's good. That's all I needed. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now take my hand."

Aedan reached for her hand. "I'll wait for them, however long it takes. But can I see my mother and father again? Fergus, Oriana, little Oren?"

"Well Aedan...this is the part where you get to find out."

And there was a sound like the beating of mighty wings.

**Par Vollen**

The homeland of the Qunari had never been seen by foreign eyes. A large island containing vast swathes of jungle, there the Qunari peoples had settled and planned their eventual invasion of Thedas. For they believed it to be their destiny and duty to spread the word of the Qun to the unenlightened, by any means necessary.

The Qunari had served the same Arishok for twenty years, ever since the old one died a peaceful death. Before he had died, however, he had been grooming a successor for a number of years. A lowly Sten of the Beresaad, but one who had won great acclaim for fighting in the Blight, defeating it, and returning with an answer to the Arishok's question. Ever since he had stepped once more on the shores of Par Vollen, clad in strange armour with his greatsword Asala strapped to his back he had been a foremost member of the Beresaad, named Qunoran Vehl, one who has achieved a major victory in the name of the Qun.

The new Arishok had proven to be a pragmatic and capable general, defeating scores of pirates that raided Qunari waters. Yet he had always decided against an invasion of Thedas and Ferelden in particular. If queried, he would only say that the time was not right. Yet year after year he maintained a network of spies in Ferelden, apparently monitoring the activities of a certain great noble, lord of a city called Highever. Agents had even been present at the wedding of his daughter, not too long ago. Apparently the lord had not forgotten his old comrade-in-arms, and had enquired after the Arishok.

A messenger was brought before the Arishok, and saluted. He knew at once that the news he brought would be of much interest.

"Speak."

"Arishok, I bring important tidings. The one called Teyrn Cousland has evidently disappeared into the Deep Roads of the dwarves, along with King Alistair and the dwarven warrior Oghren. My sources tell me this is a true Calling. He does not think they will return."

Not a muscle moved on the Arishok's face, but everyone could tell what he was thinking.

"So the Hero of Ferelden and their King is no more."

"No, Arishok."

"I once told him I would not look for him on the battlefield," he mused, apparently to himself. "It would seem I won't have to, after all. We fought dragons together. Dragons! How time has passed. And now Ferelden's greatest champions are lost forever."

"Arishok?"

"Send out the word," he ordered. "The Qunari are marching to war."

**The Free Marches**

Strangers were abound in the Free Marches, the loose collection of city states that were engaged in perpetual war and trade, often at the same time. The Free Marches were where people went when they had nowhere else to go, or else seeking a life free from rules and authority. Government was unheard of in the Free Marches. You trusted people only as far as you could throw them, and always slept with one hand on your weapon.

There was a certain village where a lone hut stood far off from the other buildings. Within dwelt an old woman. The villagers argued over her appearance, some say she was horribly scarred, with only one eye and a hunched back, while others insisted she was as proud and tall and beautiful as a queen. No one ever knew her name, or where she had come from. She had simply arrived one day and moved into the abandoned hut, and in time began selling potions and other herbal medicines to the people brave enough to walk up to her door and knock.

Most agreed she was a witch of some sort, but that was all they could agree on, and during long, lazy nights in the tavern when there was nothing else to talk of, the topic would eventually turn to the mysterious woman in her hut off the main road. She didn't cause trouble however, and seemed content to leave the villagers well alone in exchange for the same treatment from then. There were a few rumours that foolhardy teenage boys with more muscles than sense had tried to break into her hut, and were never seen again. On the other hand, there were rather a lot of frogs in the little pond behind the hut.

If the villagers could have seen her now, they would have observed her sitting cross legged in the middle of her dark home, wrapped in rags and other bits of cloth. Her mind was in another place entirely, doing the same thing she had been doing every single night since one fateful night twenty four years ago, when two former friends had snatched away the one thing in the world she loved above all else.

Shadowy images, always shifting, never quite coming into focus, but clear enough for her purposes. She couldn't do it for long, but even the few brief fleeting moments that she managed to catch were enough.

She watched as the boy grew up, strong and tall, proud and handsome. She watched as he took his first steps, read his lips as he spoke. She felt an immense rush of pride when the boy cast his first spell, confirming the magic that flowed in his veins and the vision she had for him. She raged when he was sent away to the Circle Tower, that symbol of corruption and restriction and close-mindedness she had hated all her life. She had wanted so much to spare him from that fate, yet he was packed off to slave away under fools and zealots, her worst fears brought to life. Her magic could not penetrate the bounds of the Circle Tower, so it was long months of agonising watchfulness before he was outside again. She treasured every moment she saw his face, searching for some sign, any sign of herself within him.

_Does he remember me at all? Does he remember his mother?_

But what infuriated her most of all was the sight of that woman who took her son away from her, playing the part of his mother, perpetuating a lie. On those nights the villagers would run in terror from thunderstorms that seemed particularly fierce. How she wished she could return to the land of her birth and reclaim the one she loved and kill the woman who had stolen her son from her. But as long as a certain grey-eyed warrior was there, she was forced to hide. And wait.

But now she watched as her son exchanged a last embrace with his father. She watched as a dwarf and a lord and a king set off into a cavernmouth she remembered from long ago, one that led to the Deep Roads. There was only one explanation for it.

Morrigan threw back her head and screamed laughter, a harsh, mad sound that went on and on without pause. The villagers caught a hint of it on the wind, and shuddered. Doors were locked, heads were tucked beneath the covers. Finally she subsided. Amber eyes gleamed in the darkness.

"Mordred, my son. I come for you at last."

**End.**

**Afterword**

Please check out the sequel to the story! It's titled The Call to War, and can be found by clicking on my profile. Thank you for reading.


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